


Anti Venom

by BastetCG



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: AU, Anxiety, Djinn Equip, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, assassin jafar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 45,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastetCG/pseuds/BastetCG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly altered canon.  Ja'far never met Sinbad in Valefor's dungeon.  Living as an assassin for the last decade, he finds that the traitors Vittel and Mahad must be dealt with, along with their original target, Sinbad.  Unfortunately, things go very badly for Ja'far, and he finds the palace dwellers are... kind towards him.<br/>Next Update: Late June</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone confused at how I describe Jafar's appearance, I am basing my descriptions on [this picture](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/bf/6f/c7/bf6fc7e223d2fb53e4ca9aa31422c2ca.jpg) . I'm not sure if it's official art or not, but it is labeled as "assassin Ja'far-san" and it makes me do the eyes emoji so I'm using it.

Ja’far snorted.  He might have bought into the organization’s biggest lie when he was younger, but now he knew better.  Never forgive and never forget? What a joke.  When Shaka had been reassigned, huge amounts of information had been lost.  And now that someone had unearthed one of Shaka’s old hideouts, everyone was remembering things they had supposedly never forgotten.  They all waded around the underground office, picking up old darts and collecting scrolls.  Some chattered amongst themselves about missions from a decade ago.

Ja’far looked down at the scroll in his hand and sneered.  Those two.  He threw the scroll to the ground, sick of the faces looking up at him and left the others to their work.  He had his own job now and it didn’t involve sifting through dust in an old office.

~

A knock at Sinbad’s door made him jump.

“Are you ready, Your Majesty?”

“Just a moment, Vittel.”  His attendant poked his head through, just to make sure he was actually awake.

“You were supposed to address the public half an hour ago.  Please hurry.”

“Almost done, almost done,” Sinbad said with a wave of his hand.  He clasped the last of his metal vessels around his neck then took one more glance in the mirror.  “Alright, lead me to the people,” he sighed.  As much as Sinbad loved his kingdom and its people, he didn’t particularly care for the formality.  He’d prefer to mill about unguarded in his country, interacting with his citizens one-on-one.  When he’d suggested the idea to Rurumu and King Rashid, both had used phrases such as “absolutely not,” and “out of the question.”

So instead, he had his attendants and generals all lined up behind him, silent as he faced the sunny faces of his people gathered below that palace balcony.

“Thank you for joining us today, citizens of Sindria!” he bellowed down to them.  There was a bit of cheering, but Sinbad continued.  “As you know, this week marks the fifth anniversary of our nation’s founding,” this time, he stopped.  The cheers grew, and he couldn’t help but smile wider.  “It gives me great joy and pride to be your king, and to have watched us grow from a small trading company into the prosperous country we are today.  We have had our challenges and losses, but today we are here!  Today, we are a driving force in the world!  Today we celebrate!”  The colorful crowd below was practically beside itself with pride.  The cheering only grew.  Sinbad raised his hands, and the noise settled a bit.

“Again, as I’m sure you have all heard, this week will be one long celebration, in thanks to all your hard work and-” Sinbad paused.  Something to his left glinted strangely in the white curtains.  He turned to get a better look, but there was nothing there.  Plastering a smile back on his face, he finished his sentence as if nothing had happened.  “The Eight Generals and I hope you enjoy this week long Maharagon!”

The crowd began chanting for his good health, so Sinbad raised a hand to wave.  He dismissed the all the generals, save Vittel who returned to his side and escorted him back into the palace.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?  You stumbled for a moment.”

“Hmm.  It’s nothing.  I thought there was something in the curtains is all.”  Vittel gave him a skeptical look.

“I didn’t notice anything,” he pondered.  “I’ll ask Masurur if he smelt anything unusual.”

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Sinbad dismissed.  “I’m probably just being paranoid.”

“All due respect, Your Majesty, you are the least paranoid person in the palace.”  Sin had to laugh at that thought.  Vittel was probably right.  “Shall I bring the documents for this evening to your chambers?  Or shall I delegate them to Rurumu?”

“Forget them.  They can wait until the celebration is over.”  Vittel’s eyes grew wide, then he smiled and bowed.

“Yes, Your Majesty! Thank you, Your Majesty!”

Sinbad laughed, “Go have fun, Vittel.  I’ll be down to drink soon.”

Vittel hurried off towards the kitchens, and Sinbad back towards his room.  Just as he put his hand to the handle, a terrified scream echoed down his hall.  He whipped around and raced towards the sound.  Strangely, the commotion was coming from the…kitchen?  Sinbad skidded to a halt, when he found Vittel face-down on the floor, covered in blood.

“Your Majesty!” he screamed, “Run!  Assassins ar-” he began coughing.  Sinbad of course, rushed towards him yelling for help, but the guards were probably too far to be any help.

Sinbad never reached Vittel.  Something flew past him and lodged itself into the marble wall.  A bright red wire caught him across the chest and he stumbled.  A dark laugh brought Sinbad to his senses.

“It might be almost a decade late, but I’ll finish the job.”

Sinbad grabbed his sword, but a man appeared out of nowhere and crushed Sinbad’s hand underfoot.

“I don’t think so.”  He turned to Vittel, who was whimpering.  “I can’t believe you had so much trouble with this one, Vittel.  I obviously over-estimated your skills.  Which have only gotten worse over the years, by the way.”

“Sham Lash,” Sinbad grunted.  If the darts wrapped around the man’s waist weren’t a dead giveaway, the two hair wrappings and the dead look in Sinbad’s attacker’s eyes were.  He tried to unpin his hand, but for some reason, his muscles were refusing to obey him.

“Oh, a smart one, huh?  Did you think we’d forgotten about you and your little friend over there?”

Sinbad didn’t like the way the man practically spat his words out.  The bandages covering his face made him unnerving.  Which djinn should he use to fight him?  Baal wasn’t going to be any help.  Maybe Zepar?  Before Sinbad could think any further, the man pinning him to the floor leaned over, putting one of his darts to Sinbad’s neck.

“I’m going to take great joy in killing the man who ruined my subordinates.”

“Ja’far! Stop!” Vittel screamed.  Sinbad could hear him trying to get to his feet.

“Stay down, you piece of shit.”  The man, Ja’far, threw a dart.  Sinbad heard a sickening squelch as the dart made contact, then slaps as Vittel fell back to the floor.

“Vittel!” Sinbad yelled. “Vittel are you-”

Sinbad was trying to crane his neck to see what had happened, but Ja’far took a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back to face him.

“Don’t worry about that traitor, he’ll be dead soon.  He’ll meet you in hell.”

Ja’far’s eyes, which had been so lifeless just a moment ago were practically manic now.

Sinbad tried to equip, but he found he had no control over his magoi at all.  In fact his vision was getting hazy.  When had he been poisoned?  Ja’far drew back, his grin showing through the bandages.  Sinbad closed his eyes to brace for whatever kind of wound Ja’far planned on inflicting.  But there was no pain, only a heavy thud, and then a slight pressure on his chest, probably dulled by the paralytic.

Sinbad cracked an eye open, only to find Ja’far collapsed over his chest, unconscious.  Rurumu stood over both of them, her lips pursed, and both hands in fists.

“Sorry it took so long,” she said.  Her voice was clipped.  Sinbad sighed in relief.

“Thank you so much.  I thought I was going to die.  Shit!  Vittel!  Can you check and see if he’s alright, I can’t move.”  Rurumu nodded, grabbed the assassin by the scruff and threw him over her shoulder.  Then she did the same with Vittel.

“I’m not leaving until someone else gets here or you can move,” she said.  She dropped both limp bodies, leaning them against a wall.  She sat down near them and threw her legs across Ja’far’s lap.  Sinbad knew from experience that even if the assassin tried to escape, Rurumu’s legs would stop him.

“I’m always telling you, you need more guards.  You need to increase the number of rounds per hour, Your Majesty.”

Sinbad just sighed.  “Is he okay?”

“Vittel is fine for now.  His wounds can wait until a guard comes by.  You made quite a racket, so they should be here soon.”

“What about the assassin?”

“He’ll be fine.  Maybe a little groggy when he wakes up.”

“Thank you…” Sinbad’s eyelids were growing heavy.  He didn’t know if he’d be able to stay awake much longer.

“Not the first time I’ve saved your life, Your Majesty.  Probably won’t be the last either.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Rurumu snorted, then Sinbad passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Ja’far’s cell was nicer than he’d been expecting.  He knew that Sindria had a relatively high standard of living, but he didn’t think that would have translated into holding cell quality.  It was definitely still a cell: no windows, one door, very little in terms of furniture.  But it was comfortably warm, there was a nice bed, a nightstand, and a basin.  It was much better than the shitty little hovels Sham Lash kept their prisoners in.  Hell, it was probably better than Ja’far’s quarters, and he was one of the head assassins.

The cell was beyond fine.  What pissed Ja’far off was that his weapons were gone.  Someone had not only taken the darts from around his arms and waist, but they had also put their filthy hands all over him and taken his knives and bombs and poisons.  He sat in the bed and pouted.  There was nothing else for him to do.  They’d even taken the small knife he kept hidden in his cap.  He grumbled to himself.  Again, nothing better to do.  Running his tongue along his back teeth, he cursed.  There was a gap, meaning they’d taken the cyanide pill.  So now he couldn’t even kill himself.  Great.  He didn’t know how long he’d been out, or even how long he’d been stuck in this cell, but he was not expecting visitors anytime soon.

Honestly it was fucking embarrassing.  Twenty years of choosing the best targets, of screwing over his fellow assassins, of living in squalor, he makes it twenty years through that, and he’s taken out by a fist to the head? Inexcusable.  Sinbad must have more ex-assassins than just Vittel and Mahad working in the palace if someone was able to so easily sneak up on him.  There was no other explanation.  But Ja’far had done his fucking research.  It didn’t make sense.  He’d made sure he had sectioned the two targets off from the other seven generals.  No one else in the palace should have been a threat.

Ja’far was startled out of his mental rant when the door opened.  He immediately took on a cavalier air.  He needed to make his captors think he didn’t care.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he sighed when he made eye contact with Sinbad.  He watched the king clench his jaw.  One of the traitors, Vittel followed behind him along with a female Ja’far recognized as Partevia’s ex-princess.  Vittel closed the door softly behind them.  “But would you look at that? Three traitors and an assassin all in one room.  Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

“The only joke here,” Sinbad said icily, “is you.”

Ja’far gave him a lazy smile through his bandages.  So Sinbad was that easy to rile up?  Perfect.

“Why are you attacking us now?” Serendine demanded from behind Sinbad.  Ja’far ignored her.

“So where are the other two traitors, huh? Mahad and that Dragul kid?”

Sinbad’s jaw clenched again.  He remained silent.

“M-Mahad is dead,” Vittel said quietly.

Ja’far was so shocked he almost dropped his act.  “Ha, what? Did that monster finally bite off more than he could chew?”

“He wasn’t a monster!” Vittel shouted.  “He was good!  Mahad was-”

“Vittel,” Sinbad hissed, “you don’t need to waste your breath defending Mahad to this piece of trash.”

“Oh come on, I gotta know how that big fucker ate it.”  All three of his interrogators looked livid.  Wonderful.  They’d be more likely to make a mistake then.

“Infection,” Sinbad stated.  “Two years ago.”

Again, Ja’far almost dropped his façade.  Apparently his intel _really_ wasn’t up to date.  Stupid.  So stupid!

He just grinned again.  “Hmm.  Out of all the things, infection?”

“In his shoulders, where Sham Lash operated on him.  Like I’m guessing they did on your legs too.”

“Fuck you,” Ja’far spat.

Sinbad approached his bed.  Ja’far tried not to look intimidated.  Throwing a scroll to Ja’far, the king said, “This is a list of all the laws you broke when you attacked Vittel and I.”

Ja’far opened the scroll and looked at the long list like it was intriguing.  When he didn’t say anything immediately, Sinbad said, “Well?  Anything to say for yourself?”

Ja’far put the scroll down.  “Well, first of all, I’m wondering why you think I give a shit about your joke of a country’s laws.  Second of all, what kind of response are you even looking for?  I’m an assassin.  Breaking laws isn’t exactly new to me.”  Ja’far smiled when he noticed Sinbad’s fists clench.

“You do understand that three out of the fourteen laws you broke are punishable by death here, correct?”

Ja’far stuck his pinky in his ear.  “Must have missed that part.”

“Why are you attacking us now, almost ten years after the fact?”

“The organization doesn’t forgive, and we definitely don’t forget,” Ja’far lied.  “We’ve just been waiting for you to get comfortable.  Figured a five-year anniversary is settled enough.”

“You might want to look at this a little closer,” Sinbad said shoving the scroll back under Ja’far’s nose.  “Some of these offenses might disappear if you give us information,” he hissed.

Ja’far just laughed.  “You know, Your Majesty, I’d love to take another look at that scroll.  Really, I would, but it’s not gonna do anything for you.  I can’t fucking read, you idiot.”

Sinbad looked confused for a second.

“How old are you?”

Ja’far smirked, but didn’t say anything.  Sinbad grunted, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.  The other two followed him.  Once the door shut, Ja’far sighed and let his shoulders drop.  He took one of the wrapped braids at his temple in hand and twirled it between his fingers.  It was a terrible nervous habit, almost as bad as the fact that he bit his nails and scratched at his wires.

So Mahad was dead, and apparently Serendine was back in the country.  His information was stale, and it sat badly in his mouth.  More than anything, it pissed him off.  He was such an idiot, how could he have acted on this mission without good information?  What? Was he a child?  Did he remember nothing from Shaka?  He curled in on himself and forced himself to sleep.

~

Sinbad was at a loss.  He knew that dealing with assassins was difficult, especially after having two in his closest social circle for several years.  But in comparison, this Ja’far man was…incorrigible.  Sinbad didn’t know how to approach him.  He didn’t seem to care about the death penalty, but it was the reason Sinbad was losing patience.  In Sindria’s five years, there had never been any reason to use the death penalty, and to be honest Sinbad had been hoping he would never have to use it.  He was so disturbed by the possibility of a death staining Sindria’s immaculate reputation that he couldn’t even enjoy the first three days of Maharagan, much to Sharkkan’s disappointment.  Not that he could have enjoyed it without a gallows looming in his future.  Seren had treated him for the venom Ja’far had used on his blades, which had apparently sliced across his chest when that first dart had stopped Sinbad in his tracks.  But Seren had given him strict orders not to push himself.  It was a particularly nasty venom, according to her.  It left him lethargic for a day, and would make him susceptible to illness for a while.  Drinking and taking part in the festivities would exacerbate the problem, she had said.

Even now, as he sat among his generals in the royal pavilion trying to enjoy a drink, Ja’far was weighing on his good time.

“Rurumu,” he called.  She knelt beside him.  “Have you visited the assassin yet?”

“He was sleeping when I went in.”

“You’re better at controlling people like him than I am.  Come with me.”  He stood and Rurumu followed suit.

“Hey, Your Majesty, where are you goin’?” Sharkkan asked when he realized the king was leaving.

“Don’t worry about it.  Enjoy your night,” Sinbad said.  Sharkkan shrugged and went back to bickering with Yamu.

“Did he tell you why he was attacking so late?” Rurumu asked as they walked.

“Said he’d been waiting for us to get comfortable.  Apparently Sham Lash still feels we are a threat.”

“That’s…a little ridiculous, don’t you think?”

“Just wait until you hear him talk.”

Rurumu sighed.  “I’m not looking forward to dealing with another young Mahad or Vittel.”

“He’s worse, unfortunately.”

“Poor man.  He’s probably been through more than they had, considering how long he’s been with the organization.”  Sinbad gave her a look.  “I’m not defending him.  I just feel terrible knowing that Sham Lash still exists given what Vittel told us about them.”

“Fair enough.”

“And what is it you want from him?” Rurumu questioned.  Sinbad clenched his jaw as they entered the palace.

“I’m not sure.  I just really don’t want to have anyone else die.”

“Hmm.  You’re too kind, Your Majesty.”

“You were just sympathizing with him,” Sinbad reminded her.

“It helps me relate to him.  Figure out what’s important.”

“Well, good luck.  It doesn’t seem like anything is important to him.  He laughed when I told him he could die.”

“That’s not surprising when you’ve been raise to believe you’re only a tool.”

“I thought Sham Lash would have disappeared when Barbarossa died.”

“Oh, Sinbad,” Rurumu sighed.  “You should know by now that what the world sees and what is actually happening in a country are almost always at odds.”

“I know, I know.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  His fingers got tangled at the crown of his head, so he shook his hand out and picked up his pace.

When they reached the cell door, Sinbad reached for the handle, but Rurumu stopped him, then knocked at the door softly.

There was some shuffling from inside the room.  “Who’s there,” came a timid call from within.

“King Sinbad and his adviser, Rurumu.  May we come in?”  Sinbad looked on at her in confusion, but she just smiled back at him.

“Do what you like,” answered Ja’far.

So Rurumu turned the handle and entered the room.  Sinbad followed a moment after, still confused.  She was treating him like a guest!  After he had tried to kill him!

Ja’far was huddled in the corner of his bed, not looking up at them.  It was a completely different air than earlier this morning; the change was unnerving for Sinbad.

“Ja’far, we have a few questions for you.  Would you mind if we sat here and chatted with you?”

“Do whatever you want.  I’m not telling you shit.”

Rurumu sat down and patted the spot on the floor next to her, implying that Sinbad was supposed to do the same.  He did, but gave her a furtive glance.

“How have you been today, Ja’far?”

“You know damn well how I’ve been.  I’m a prisoner and I can’t even kill myself.”

“Ah, yes, we didn’t want you hurting yourself.  Vittel mentioned that Sham Lash wasn’t kind towards those who were captured.  So we took the capsule.”

“Pointless.  I’ll just stop eating.”

“Then we’ll have some time to change your mind then, won’t we?”  Ja’far rolled his eyes at her.  “Would you like to bathe?” she asked suddenly.  Now Ja’far was just as confused as Sinbad.

“The hell?  No!  I’m fine.”

“You smell,” she stated.

“I do not!” he defended.  “I took a dust bath just a week ago!”

“Oh, then you’re definitely getting a bath,” Rurumu decided.  She stood, and Sinbad scrambled to follow her.  “Just a moment, Ja’far.  I’ll go get some attendants to help you.”

“Fuck off, bitch! I don’t want a bath!”

Rurumu turned back to Ja’far, who had scrambled to the edge of his bed in an attempt to stop them.  “Is that anyway to speak to someone offering you a service? And for free no less?”  Ja’far gapped at her.  “A thank you would be more appropriate.  But I understand that was not how you were raised.”  She reached out a hand, but Ja’far shied away in a flurry.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”  Rurumu lowered her hand.

“The attendants will be by in a few minutes.  Please try not to abuse them too much.  They’re just doing their jobs.”

And with that, Rurumu and Sinbad exited the room.  Rurumu found some attendants and gave them their assignment, warning them that Ja’far would probably act violently.  She didn’t say anything to Sinbad, so he had to break the silence between them.

“Alright, so you wanna tell me what the hell just happened?  A bath?”

“Are you questioning my methods, Your Majesty?” she asked with a smile.

“Kind of.”

“Ja’far has very little self-worth.  He’s probably used to people respecting and fearing him, but not acting kindly towards him.”

“So what? You confuse him into giving up information?”

“Hmmm.  In a sense I suppose.  More like treat him well until he realizes that it’s much better to be a citizen of Sindria than an assassin of Sham Lash.”

Sinbad stopped in his tracks.  “Are you… are you serious?”

“You said you didn’t want to kill him.  You can pardon him if he’s a Sindrian citizen.  Besides, isn’t this how you dealt with Hinahoho, Vittel, and Mahad all those years ago?”

“I-I guess, but things have changed.  We don’t have time to reform another assassin.”

“I can make time.  Pipirika takes care of the kids more than I do now anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. He’s my responsibility, not yours.”

“Then help me.  I’m sure eventually he’ll be flattered to have the king take so much interest in him,” Rurumu smiled.

Sinbad glared at her.  He opened his mouth to say something, but a crash and some yelling stopped him.

“Stop!  Give that back!  Don’t fucking touch me, you bitch!”

Rurumu sighed.  “I suppose it was optimistic of me to assume they’d be able to handle him.”  Sinbad followed her back to Ja’far’s cell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I have about 6k words after this chapter already written! Bad news! I won't be able to write much for the next two weeks! TwT I'm gonna be working on cosplay bc there's a con coming up. If you wanna see what I've been working on, you can visit my instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/bastetcg/) or if you wanna talk to me on tumblr you can visit me [here](https://bastetcg.tumblr.com) ! Shameless plug over..

Like hell he was gonna take a bath in this hell hole!  There were three attendants, two men and a woman.  He could have taken all of them on if he’d had his darts, but as it was now, the men had a grip on his shoulders and arms, and the woman was attempting to unwrap his face.  They’d already taken his cap and cloak and he felt exposed.

“Stop!  Stop it!  Let me go!”  He thrashed and kicked and spat at the attendants, but they seemed unaffected.  They were probably looking for the best place to stick a needle or for any wounds they could exploit.

“Ja’far, please calm down!”  Great, the huge bitch was back, and Sinbad was right behind her.

“Don’t touch me!  Get off!”  He managed to throw one of the men off his arm, so he used the opportunity to shove the other man into the woman.  Then he rushed Rurumu.  Finally! This was his chance to escape!  He’d been intending to run around her, or perhaps between her legs (she was fucking huge, it would have been easy for him), but her fist met his face before he could even get close enough to change the direction of his motion.  He dropped like a sack, hand to his jaw.  His vision was doubled when he looked up at her.

“It was you,” she rasped.  “You’re the one who got me last time.”  He let his head drop to the floor.  “Bested by a fat bitch.”

“Ja’far, I’m extremely disappointed in you.  We are trying to be hospitable towards you, who has only insulted and assaulted us.  Please consider your position here.”

Ja’far groaned.  “Shut up, bitch.  Stop trying to act like…like a mother.”  The pain in his jaw was beginning to radiate up the side of his face and into his ear.  He ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth, pleased to find little damage.

“Well, I can’t help it, considering you act like you’ve never had one.”

Now he laughed.  “I had one.  Wanna know what happened to her?”  He pushed himself up to look her in the eye.  “Killed her.  And my father.  Easiest mission I ever had.”  His grin grew when Rurumu’s face dropped.  ‘That’s right,’ he thought.  ‘I’m not some child you can win over with a little Mommy Power.’

Suddenly Sinbad was in front of him, and the other side of his face stung.  He hadn’t even registered the slap.

“Don’t say those kind of things like you’re proud of them,” he hissed.  “Rurumu has said you will have a bath, so you will have a bath, even if I have to strip you and bathe you myself.”  He grabbed Ja’far by the loose bandages around his shoulders and began to shake him.  “Am I clear?”

“Let go of me!  Get away!”

His demands were met with another slap.  “Am I clear?” Sinbad asked again, more forcefully.

Ja’far saw no way out, so he went limp.  What did he care?  If they bathed him, they bathed him.  He tried to push all of his worry and discomfort away, but it only sank down lower in his gut.  If he had to bathe, that meant his body would be exposed.  People would see him.  He shuddered in Sinbad’s hands. 

“Are you going to act like an adult now?”

Ja’far didn’t answer, and Sinbad shook him again.  Ja’far could feel tears pricking at his eyes.  Stupid!  So stupid!

“Please,” he whispered.  The shaking stopped.  “Please don’t touch me.”

Sinbad let go, and Ja’far crumpled into himself.

“Undress him,” Sinbad snapped at the attendants, who had mostly recovered at this point.  Ja’far was motionless as they did so.  What did it matter at this point?

To his surprise, Sinbad huffed then turned to the door.  “I’m going to bed.  I’m too angry to do anything else.  Stay with him Rurumu.”  Then he was gone.

“Yes, Your Majesty.  Let’s take him to the baths first. It won’t do to have him going there in the nude.”

Ja’far sighed.  What was he even doing here?  Sure Vittel and Mahad had betrayed the organization, but even to him, this was a little ridiculous.  It had been years.  But when he’d brought it up, the other chief’s had told him he needed to take responsibility, so here he was, getting ordered around by a fat, raging hag and the shitty king he was supposed to have killed.  Rurumu pulled him onto his feet, and he stumbled into her.  She smiled and took his hand in hers.

“Let go of me.”

“If you’re going to act like a child, you’re going to be treated like a child.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“You’re just huge, you fat cow.  Everyone looks small compared to you.”  The attendants tittered, shocked by his offensive language.

“I was referring more to your behavior than your appearance, but now that you mention it, you do look malnourished.”  She turned to the female attendant.  “Have a meal prepared for him after the bath.”  The attendant bowed and hurried out of the room.

 

The baths were pretty impressive, Ja’far thought to himself.  He had heard about similar kinds of baths in Reim and Kina, but he’d never dreamed he’d be able to see something like this with his own eyes.  It was simply a huge room, covered in marble like most of the palace halls, but there were several large pools sunken into the floor.  Steam filled Ja’far’s vision, and he struggled to see through it.  Rurumu pressed him onto a stool near the entrance.  There were several other stools similar to the one he was in, as well as a wall of cubby holes and pegs for clothes.

“You can either undress yourself, or have me undress you.”  Ja’far glared at her.  She raised a brow at him, so he began unwrapping his torso.  “We’ll have your, uh, clothes washed.  When you get out, there will be a temporary change of clothes waiting for you.”

“Are you just gonna sit there and watch, hag?  This isn’t a brothel, you know.”

“Trust me, you aren’t tempting in the least, Ja’far.  Just undress so we can bathe you.”

“I’ll bathe myself.”

“Somehow I don’t trust you.”

“Fuck off.”

“So rude.  I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re trying to manipulate me.”

She smiled.  “Undress please, Ja’far.”

Sneering, he practically tore the rest of the bandages off his chest.  She wanted to look at him, huh?  Fine.  She could recoil and shudder just like everyone else.  Call him a monster.  Fine.  Honestly he should be used to it by now.

“Oh, Ja’far,” she breathed.  He jumped when she put a hand on his back.

“Don’t!” he hissed.

“This is…This is terrible.  How long has this been here?”

Ja’far ignored her and continued stripping.  The dark metal vessel embedded in his back was not something he was proud of, but he hated being pitied almost more than he hated exposing himself.

“I’ll call Yamuraiha, she’ll take a look at it.  I’m sure she can remo-”

“Don’t.”

“But Ja’far-”

“I said fuck off.”

Rurumu let out a deep breath.  “Alright, let’s just get you clean then.”

With his biggest insecurity out in the open, Ja’far couldn’t find many excuses to hide the rest of them.  He stripped without interruption, even if he did hesitate taking off his pants.  The scars on his legs were almost as garish as the purple and black metal eating away at his skin.

Once naked he strode past Rurumu without a word and stepped into one of the baths.  It was much too hot for him, and stung his skin, but he pretended it didn’t bother him.  Rurumu sat on the ledge next to where he’d settled and dipped her feet into the pool.

“I’m going to unwrap your hair.  Is that alright?”

Ja’far shifted away.  “I’ll do it myself.”  He undid the wrappings, and then the braids in his hair.  The long strands barely touched the surface of the water.

“You’re going to have to get your head wet in order to bathe properly.”

Ja’far gave her an incredulous look.  Why bother getting his hair wet if he was just going to dry it when he was done?  As far as he was concerned, his bath was almost done anyway.  Rurumu pursed her lips, put a hand to his head and dunked him.  He came up spluttering and hissing like a cat, whipping his hair around and he tried to remove her hand.

“Now hold still.”  Ja’far pulled away but begrudgingly settled.  He stiffened again when Rurumu began lathering up his hair.

“What is that?” he yelped, pushing her away.  “What are you putting in my hair?”

“Soap?”  Rurumu lifted her bubble heavy hands to show him.

“Soap…?”

“It’s just soap.  Have you never used it before?”

“Soap is only for cleaning wounds,” Ja’far mumbled.  “Why are you wasting it on hair?”

“Come here. If you want you can finish it yourself.”  She held out the cream colored bar to him.  He snatched it out of her hand and examined it.  When he was satisfied that it was, in fact, soap, he experimentally rubbed it between his hands.

“And I put this in my hair?”

“And all over your body.”  Ja’far grunted in understanding.  He wasn’t sure if he liked the strong floral scent it carried, but he acquiesced.  He furiously scrubbed at his hair, and the lather got into his eyes.  He wiped it out, but it still stung a little.  He glanced at Rurumu, who was unbraiding and rebraiding the ridiculous blue mane on her head.

“Now what?”

“Rinse it out.”

“Just…rinse it out?”

“Yup.”  So Ja’far dunked his head back under the water.  “Wow, that is quite the cloud of dirt there,” she observed when he came back out of the water.  Ja’far looked down, and sure enough, all the bubbles were brown.  “You might want to do it again.”

So Ja’far huffed and repeated the process.  Who cared if he was clean?  He was gonna die soon anyway wasn’t he?  Whatever.  If these idiots wanted to waste resources on a dead assassin, so be it.

“Oh, your hair is white.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it was a light brown, with all that dirt in it.  But it’s white.  How strange.”

Again Ja’far ignored her.  Who cared what color his hair was?  He began scrubbing the soap into his skin to distract himself.

~

Sinbad hadn’t been able fall asleep, so he tossed and turned in bed, angrily thinking about how Ja’far had insulted him and his kingdom.  And of course now Rurumu wanted to make him a Sindrian citizen.  Not that Sinbad would ever question her judgement; he’d never known her to act rashly.  He sat up and swung his legs out of bed.  He was too angry to enjoy Maharagon, he was too angry to sleep.  He began pacing.  Ja’far knew nothing, obviously.  He didn’t know about all the hard work it had taken or the numerous insurmountable obstacles Sinbad and his kingdom had faced to get where they were now.  He grunted to himself.  Maybe it didn’t matter to Ja’far.  Sinbad vaguely imagined how Ja’far would act if he _did_ know what it had taken, but he couldn’t see Ja’far acting any differently.  He must have walked the length of his room approximately seventeen times when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Your Majesty?” Rurumu’s voice came.  This couldn’t be good

“Come in.”

“Your Majesty, we have a rather big problem.” she said as she stepped through the door.

“Did he hurt someone?”

“What?  No, no.  Aside from not letting anyone touch him, he was rather tame.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He…has a metal vessel-”

“ _He_ has a metal vessel?” Sinbad practically yelled.  He headed towards the door, stomping his feet.  “How did we miss that?”  He needed to see what kind of djinn would choose a trash candidate like Ja’far.  Rurumu didn’t move.

“Let me finish!” she scolded.  She put her hands on the threshold of the door, blocking Sinbad from leaving, then added, “Your Highness.”

“If he has a metal vessel-”

“Your Highness.”

Sinbad sighed.  “I’m sorry.  Please finish, Rurumu.”

“He has a metal vessel embedded in his back.  But it’s a dark metal vessel.”

Sinbad went from anxious and flighty to petrified in an instant.  All he could think about was the swirling black skin of the djinn that Vittel and Mahad had been a part of all those years ago.  He didn’t wish that on anyone, even if Ja’far was a terrible human being.

“W-we need to get it out of him.”

“I tried suggesting that to him, but he refused to even talk about it.  I don’t know how long it’s been there, but this is…urgent.”

“Urgent?  This needed to be addressed the moment he stepped foot in Sindria!  He could destroy the country!”

“He doesn’t seem to have any intentions to use it against us.” Rurumu explained.  “If he had, he would have used it by now, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what his intentions are,” Sinbad countered.  “If he falls into depravity, he’ll turn into a black djinn whether he wants to or not.  And considering how nasty he already is, he may be halfway there.”  Sinbad was still trying to find a way around Rurumu.

“You can’t see him now.  He’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping?”

“Yes, as you should be doing.  I will alert Yamu to the problem, but there’s nothing you or I can do about this right now.”

“You want me to sleep while a black djinn could destroy the castle and kill everyone in it at any time?”

“He’s sleeping.  He can’t fall into depravity if he’s asleep, Your Highness.  If it bothers you that much, wake up before him.”

Sinbad gaped at her.  “Rurumu, I trust and respect you, but you’re asking too much.”

“I’ll have Vittel make you some tea.”

“Rurumu!” the door slammed in his face.  Grumbling to himself, he began pacing again.  What good was being King if no one listened to him?


	4. Chapter 4

When Sinbad had entered the cell, two things had struck him.  One was that Ja’far had white hair.  It was rather startling in and of itself, but Ja’far was also…handsome.  Sinbad hated him as much as he could hate anyone, but he was not one to let his personal opinions interfere with his other opinions.  Ja’far was young.  No older than twenty-five, but he couldn’t possibly be younger than seventeen.  The freckles made his age confusing.

He looked even more like a petulant child now, as he turned over the food on the tray in his lap.

“What is this?” he lifted up the peach Sinbad had taken a bite out of earlier.

“A peach.”

“A peach,” Ja’far mumbled.  He turned it over in his hand.  He lifted it up to his nose and sniffed it.  He put it to his lips and took a small bite, which ended up spat on the floor.  “The hell?” he asked the peach.

“What’s wrong?”  Sinbad knew there wasn’t anything wrong with the peach, he was more asking what was wrong with Ja’far, but the nuance was lost.

“It’s hurts!  You people eat these things?  Like on a regular basis?”

“What do you mean, it hurts?”

“It stings!  Is this shit poisonous?”

“It’s just a peach, Ja’far.  We didn’t do anything to it, that’s how they normally taste.”

Ja’far gave him an accusatory glance, and put the peach down.  “Why did she give me fish?”

Sinbad cocked an eyebrow.  “That’s standard breakfast fare here.”

“But why would she waste it on me?”

“Rurumu seems to believe she can win you over with food and kind words.”  Sinbad couldn’t help but smile a little when Ja’far glared at him again.  Sinbad was reminded of a recently milked snake baring its fangs.

“Win me over?” Ja’far laughed.  Without thinking, he took another bite of the peach.  He spit it out in his hand and grimaced.  “I need water.”

“Interesting.”  Even if there wasn’t any hope in Ja’far assimilating, it was still fun to tease him.  In fact, this was the most fun Sinbad had had teasing someone in a while.

“Aren’t you going to get it for me?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I need water.”

“Well, last time I checked, I was a king, and you were a prisoner.  If want someone to do something for you, especially someone of a higher class to do something for you, you should ask them nicely.”

Ja’far squinted at him.  “If I had my darts on me, you’d be dead.”

“I’m sure.”

Rurumu knocked at the door, then entered carrying a tray similar to the one in Ja’far’s lap, but with fewer plates.

“Your Majesty,” she said as she passed the tray to Sinbad.

“Hey, fat bitch, I need water,” Ja’far demanded.

Rurumu gave him an unimpressed look.  “That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”  Sinbad snickered as Ja’far huffed.

“Can I have some water?”

“Can you ask nicely?”

“May I _please_ have some water?”

“Of course!  I would love to get you some water, Ja’far!” Rurumu stepped out of the room once more, and returned with a mug of water.    “So what have you learned today?”

“Fucking, seriously?” Sinbad and Rurumu waited for an acceptable response.  “If I act like a good little girl and say please and thank you, people will do what I ask!” Ja’far mocked in a high pitched voice.  “Fuck off.  I can’t even eat half this shit anyway.”

“Oh, so you don’t want this.  I guess I’ll just have to give it to Sinbad, then,” sighed Rurumu.

“Are you fucking serious!”  Sinbad was almost laughing now.  He took the cup from Rurumu and acted like we was going to drink it.  Ja’far’s eyes were wide with what Sinbad could only describe as heartbreak.  He did his best not to snort into the mug.

“Bitch,” Ja’far hissed under his breath.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who went and got water for you,” chided Rurumu.

“I never got it!”

“Well, you were rude.  People aren’t going to want to do things for you if you’re rude to them.”

“What? I have to be polite all the time?” he snorted back at her.

“Yes.”

“You’re funny.”

“You have to learn how to behave if you’re going to be a Sindrian citizen.  I just figured we would start-”

“I’m sorry, a _what_?”

“Oh, well, if you don’t want to be executed, you’ll need to become a Sindrian citizen.  In order for you to be a Sindrian citizen, we need to be able to trust that you won’t make trouble for the other citizens.”

Ja’far folded his hands over his breakfast tray and plastered a fake smile over his anger.  “And did you even think to fucking _ask_ me about any of this?”

“Well, it’s either that or execution,” Rurumu bluffed.  Ja’far just laughed.

“Go ahead and kill me then!  It’ll be a lot easier in the long run for all of us.”

Sinbad put the cup of water down.  “Why do you pretend you don’t care?”

Both Rurumu and Ja’far looked at him in shock.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Every time we mention the death penalty, you act like you don’t care.  Why?  Why do you pretend your life doesn’t matter?”

“Because it doesn’t,” Ja’far shot back.

“You can’t possibly think that.”

Ja’far’s face scrunched up in disbelief.  “My life _doesn’t_ matter.  What matters is my mission.”

“Is that what Sham Lash taught you to view yourself?” Rurumu asked quietly.

“Sham Lash?” Ja’far laughed.  “The hell?  No, living taught me I was worthless.  Sham Lash just taught me how to use my worthlessness.”  When he saw the pity on Sinbad’s face he hissed, “Don’t think I don’t know you all view me.  I know my situation.”

Sinbad was honestly at a loss for words.  He had known that Ja’far’s reasoning was less than rational, but this was beyond what Sinbad could have imagined.  He opened his mouth to try and defend himself, but he remembered how he’d thought of Ja’far last night.

_Trash._

_Terrible human being._

_Nasty._

Sinbad closed his mouth.  Granted, Ja’far was all of those things, Sinbad still felt bad for thinking them.  It must have been difficult for Ja’far to see himself as anything else if everyone around him kept telling him the same thing.

“You’re not worthless, Ja’far,” Rurumu defended.  Again, Ja’far scrunched up his face, this time in disbelief.

“You really will say anything to get me on your side, won’t you?”

“This isn’t about getting you on our side, Ja’far, this is about you.  No one should think of themselves as worthless.  My husband went through a period of time where he felt much like you do.  He was-”

“Someone married your fat ass?  Wow.  Low standards, huh?”  He picked up one of the donuts off his tray and inspected it.

Sinbad wanted to punch him again.  Putting down his breakfast tray, he stood so loomed over Ja’far.  “Why do you keep doing that?  Why do you keep pulling away every time we try to talk to you about things like this?”

“Whatever.”

Sinbad felt his fingers twitch.  He was about one snarky comment away from shaking Ja’far again.

“Ja’far, I understand that opening up to others must be hard for you, but this isn’t the way to deal with it,” Rurumu said quietly.  He gave her a deadpan look and popped the donut into his mouth, then immediately began sputtering, powdered sugar flying everywhere.

“What the fuck?” he coughed.  “The hell is this shit?  This is almost as bad as that peach thing.”

“It’s just fried dough with powdered sugar,” Sinbad explained with a huff.

“Why does it hurt all the cuts in my mouth?”

“Well, sweet foods tend to do that,” supplied Rurumu.

“Sweet?  Is this what sweet things taste like?”

“Y-you don’t know what sweet things taste like?”

“I wouldn’t fucking ask if I did, would I?”

“Stop changing the subject,” interrupted Sinbad.  “You need to start acting like an adult, instead of a child.  I don’t want to have to kill you, but the crimes you’ve committed are serious.”

Ja’far rolled his eyes.  “Why can’t you people understand?  If it’s that much trouble, just fucking kill me.  It’ll save Al Tharmen a step.”

Both Sinbad and Rurumu froze up.

“What do you mean ‘save them a step’?” Sinbad demanded.

“What?  You think that metal vessel in my back is just sitting there?  Why do you think Sham Lash sent me here anyway, huh?  They know I don’t have much time left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note! I will not be updating next week since I will be at a convention! It will also give me some time to write some more, since I'm almost caught up with posting ( I like to have the next 2 chapters written when I post). Anyway, thanks for reading up til now, hope it's not moving too slowly,,


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! The convention went well, and there are photos up on my [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/bastetcg/) if anyone is interested
> 
> Also, exciting news, I got a job! I'm gonna be an RA back at college for the Summer semester, so I'm gonna be really busy in a couple weeks. I'm gonna try and keep the updates as they are, once a week on Saturdays, but I might have to shorten the chapters ;-;
> 
> And!! I apologize for pretty much ignoring comments up until now, but I have like 100+ messages in my inbox at the moment, so it's kind of hard to sort though,,, I'm gonna try and get back to the most recent ones either today or tomorrow. I read all of them!! I just have not gotten back, so i will be attempting that... anyway, here's the next chapter,,,

Ja’far hated these people.  He hated them so much.  They kept making him give up information.  He clenched his fists.  He could tell they were looking at him with pity.  He could just tell.

“You don’t-”

“You heard me,” he snarled.  “I told you.  Just kill me.  It’ll save us all some trouble.”

“The metal vessel is killing you?”

“What else would it be doing?  Huh?  You either use it and die, or you don’t use it and die.  I’ve chosen the latter.”

“You don’t get to choose,” Sinbad hissed.  “Don’t you understand how serious this is?”

“Fuck you.  I know more about it than you do, apparently.  I fucking know what Al Tharmen is after, and I’ve chosen not to give it to them.  But trust me, I am slowly starting to see the appeal in turning into a fucking monster, if you catch my drift.”

“Why won’t you let us help you?” Sinbad yelled, obviously frustrated.

“Why do you keep insisting I need your help?” he yelled back.

“Because I don’t want you to die!”

Ja’far felt his eyes widen.  His hand shot up to twirl his hair.  He hated these people.  He hated…  Sinbad was his target.  Why were they being so nice?  It didn’t make any sense.  Sinbad should hate him.  He’d made sure Sinbad would hate him.  He’d insulted pretty much everything Sinbad stood for, as well as Sinbad himself.  He pulled on his hair.

“You’re an idiot,” he finally managed to say.

“An idiot with a kingdom at his disposal.”

“There’s nothing for you to gain in helping me.”

“You’re wrong.  It will give me peace of mind.  And I hope it will give me a new ally.”

“Absolute idiot.”

“Ja’far,” Rurumu spoke up, “Sinbad is offering you something most people would snap up in an instant.  _You_ would be the idiot if you refused.”

“So you’re asking me to abandon Sham Lash, the only ones who have been looking after my ass for the past twenty years?  In the hopes that I don’t die and become your ally?”

“Yes,” Sinbad nodded.  Ja’far looked down at his tray of food, still mostly untouched. He pulled on his hair a little harder.  This was ridiculous.

“They’ll come after me,” he warned.  “They sent me ten years after their initial attack.  They’ll remember this and send more assassins after you.”

“And we’ll deal with them.  We’ll protect you.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

“A distressing trend, I’m noticing.”

Ja’far rolled his eyes.  “I don’t know what you have planned in terms of the vessel, but I could die at pretty much any moment.  It might all be for nothing,” he bluffed.  He knew he had about two months left, but he wanted to make this as hard as possible for Sinbad.

“I wouldn’t forgive you if you did,” Sinbad smiled softly.

“Is that supposed to be encouraging or something?”

“Are you going to eat the rest of your peach?”  Ja’far glared at him, then took another bite out of the fruit just to spite the king.  He managed to get it down his throat this time, but he gagged.

“Take it,” he handed it to Sinbad.

“If that’s too sweet, eat the pita.  It’s probably more like what you’re used to,” Rurumu suggested.  “There’s a little bit of yogurt on it, but it shouldn’t be too sweet.”

He glared at her, but there wasn’t any heat behind it.  Rurumu ignored him, and Sinbad bit into the peach with a loud crunch.

“So are you going to give us information now?  Have we settled the fact that you are now part of the Sindrian nation?”

“Sinbad, it might be too early for that,” Rurumu whispered with a worried glance.

“Yeah, Sinbad.  Too early.”  Ja’far pinched off a piece of the pita and placed it in his mouth.  He was pleased to find that it was much milder than everything else he’d tasted here.  He immediately began stuffing the bread into his mouth, ignoring how the yogurt was making a mess in his hands.

“Whoa, slow down,” Sinbad placed a hand on Ja’far’s shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Ja’far said.  Unfortunately, with his mouth full, it came out much less threatening than he’d intended.

“Ja’far, if you eat that fast, you could choke.  Not to mention, you won’t get as much energy out of your food if you don’t chew it,” Rurumu chided.

“Whatever,” he mumbled as he shoved the last piece of pita into his mouth.  “You gotta be fast.”

“Fast?” Sinbad repeated.  Ja’far rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.  If you eat slowly, your guard is down longer.  Poison has longer to take effect.  You have to eat fast; get a head start.”

“You don’t need to worry about those kinds of things anymore,” said Rurumu.  “Could you try chewing your food?”  Jaf’ar shot her a critical look.  “Please?”

“Whatever.”  He swallowed what was in his mouth, then took a smaller bite than what he was used too.  He chewed loudly, which Rurumu reprimanded him for.  He set down the pita in his messy hands.

“The flavor changed…” he mumbled to himself.  “It’s different.”  Rurumu and Sinbad smiled at him.  As soon as he looked at them, he felt vulnerable.  He hunched his shoulders over his tray and grumbled.  “I mean, I already knew that, I must have just forgotten,” he tried to cover.

“It’s alright if you don’t know things, Ja’far,” Rurumu smiled.  “There’s no shame in that, especially considering how you were raised.”

“I couldn’t read until I was almost sixteen,” Sinbad supplied.  Ja’far raised his head a little.

“Are you serious?  You didn’t learn to read until you were sixteen?  I knew you were an idiot, but that’s just ridiculous.”

“You know-” Sinbad started angrily.  Rurumu cut him off before he could get any farther.

“I was the one to teach Sinbad how to read and write, and it would be an honor to teach you, if you’ll have me for a teacher.”

“You want to teach me?”

“Only if you’ll let me.  If you’d rather learn from one of the palace tutors, we can have that arranged as well.”

“I-I, uh…” Jaf’ar hunched over again.  “I guess I wouldn’t mind if you were my teacher.”  He could practically feel Rurumu’s satisfaction radiating off of her.  “I mean I don’t know how much a hag like you can teach someone like me, but I guess I’m gonna be dead soon anyway.”

The satisfied glow dropped immediately.

“Well, it’s obvious that before I can teach you any sort of academics, we’ll have to get your manners straightened out.”

“I don’t want to learn manners.”

“That’s unfortunate.  If you’re receiving a palace education, which means you’ll most likely be working here in the future.  And that means you’ll be working very closely with His Majesty.  You must have the utmost care in how you act.”

“Closely?  With _him_?”  This was not what Ja’far had been anticipating.  “Can’t I just learn how to fish or something?  Live at the docks?  I don’t wanna have to be around _him_ any more than I need to be.”

“I have a name,” Sinbad deadpanned.

“If I’m your teacher, you will be overqualified for physical labor,” Rurumu said. “How much you interact with His Majesty depends on what job you end up taking.”

“I never thought we’d be delegating our extra work to someone hell-bent on killing me,” Sinbad mused.  “Vittel will be so relieved.”

“As will I,” Rurumu sighed.  “That is, assuming he has the aptitude for figures and politics.”

“But Ja’far,” Sinbad turned serious, “in exchange for all of this, I will be needing some information from you.”

“You get the metal vessel out first.  Then we’ll talk.”

“That’s pointless.  If you happen to die before that-”

“Then you’re shit out of luck, now aren’t you?”

“You’ve never negotiated before have you?” Sinbad sighed.

“Sham Lash doesn’t negotiate,” Ja’far hissed back.

“Obviously.”

“Then let’s do this,” Rurumu said, “We’re going to be seeing Yamu tomorrow.  If she gives an unfavorable prognosis, you will give us the information.  If she has high hopes for this situation, we can wait.  You can give us information after whatever procedure she devises.  How does that sound?”

Ja’far felt like he was being told what to do.  He was probably being tricked into something.  He knew he couldn’t trust these people, no matter what they said, or what they offered him.  Sham Lash had taught him that if you were faced with negotiations, you did not budge.  It would force the other party to reveal more.  But there was a part of him that was very, very tired.  He wasn’t sure he had much fight left in him.  These two had been here for almost an hour, and he had talked more in that hour than he usually spoke in a week.  Maybe the metal vessel was finally starting to drain his energy.  He knew it was a side effect, since he’d seen others succumb to their own vessels, but he hoped it was just a response to being around these two chattering birds.  Noisy.  They were so noisy.

“Fine.”  Ja’far set his tray down on the floor, turned to face the wall, and covered himself in his blankets.

“That was easier than I expected,” mused Sinbad.

“Are you done with this Ja’far?” Rurumu asked.  Ja’far heard her pick the tray up, but he didn’t answer.  “Alright.  I can see you’re done talking for today.  Would you like me to bring you lunch later today?”

Ja’far bit down on his own teeth.  He knew he should say something, but he didn’t know if he wanted to or not.  He thought to himself, ‘It doesn’t matter if I reply or not.  If they don’t bring it, I’ll just go without.  If they do bring it, I probably won’t even be able to eat it anyway.  Who cares.’

“Rurumu asked you a question,” Sinbad said.  Ja’far grit his teeth harder.  He knew he was just being petulant now, but he needed to act like this.  This was the way he always acted.

“It’s alright Sinbad.  He’s probably a little overwhelmed.”  Then, directed at Ja’far, “I’ll personally prepare your dishes, and have servants bring you your lunch.  Whether you eat is up to you at this point.”

~

“He’s an actual child,” Sinbad said in surprise.  “He is actually a child!”

Rurumu sighed.  “He’s an immature adult, Sinbad.  He was raised to believe his behavior wasn’t important, so he could act any way he pleased.  It’s rather common, unfortunately.”  They turned a corner, towards the main gates.  Sinbad still hadn’t truly enjoyed his own country’s anniversary, so Rurumu was forcing him to go have a little fun, which was disconcerting to her.  He was still apparently worried that Ja’far would turn into a hideous beast and destroy the country.

“What do you mean common?” he asked.

“Well, when parents go to war, or parents die, the children left behind don’t quite get a proper upbringing.  I’m sure you’re familiar with that type of thing?”  She watched his expression grow somber.

“Yeah, I’m familiar.  But he’s at least twenty,” he thought out loud, “He should have _some_ manners, don’t you think?”

“There’s not much to think about his current situation, Your Majesty.  You must take him as he is, and attempt to improve from there.”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed.  “I just don’t know much about raising children, I guess.”

“It’s something learned with practice.  And besides, we made a lot of progress with him today.”

“Really?” the king deadpanned, “How do you figure that?  He’s still rude, unpredictable, and moody.”

“He agreed to eat, to give us information, and to learn to read.  I was not expecting nearly that much today.  And his behavior will change with time.”

“I’m impatient.”

“I know.  Please give me time.  And of course, you help will be welcomed.”

“I only seem to rile him up,” he said, running his hand through his bangs.

Rurumu sighed, “I noticed that.  But now you’re acting like it was unintentional.”  She glanced over at him as they entered another hall.  He almost looked bashful.

“Yeah, well, most of it was unintentional.”  He sighed.  “I can’t help it if he’s fun to tease.”

“Hmm.  I think once you two stop bickering so much, you’ll get along quite well.”

“I’m sure,” he rolled his eyes.  They both stopped in front of the main doors, looming over the foyer

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.  In any case, he probably will end up working here, either under Vittel or myself.  You might want to consider getting along with him.”

“You’re right, we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Go have some fun, Your Majesty.  Try not to worry about Ja’far too much.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHhh,,, sorry this took so long!!! Technically it's still Saturday?? So I'm jusgt barely keeping with the schedule. Again, apologies for the wait,,

Ja’far didn’t like the way this woman was inspecting him.  He had been subjected to scientific examination too many times in his life, so having yet another blue-haired bitch poking and prodding him so early in the morning was making him remember all sorts of things he didn’t want to be remembering.  He hissed at her when she grabbed and lifted his arm.  He was practically shivering the kaupina he had been given.  It left nothing to the imagination; it only covered his genitals and ass, and left his legs open to scrutiny.

“Gentle, Ja’far,” Rurumu said from her seat a few meters away.  Ja’far grumbled.

“So there’s very little permanent damage to your body, aside from scaring and the metal vessel,” Yamuraiha stated.  “Uhh, and whatever they did to your legs?”

“I could have told you that,” he said under his breath.  He had been trying to distract himself from Magic Hag’s invasiveness by studying her lab, but he had struggled.  Now that her hands were off him, he managed to get a better look.  It almost seemed like someone had gotten half way done cleaning, but they had never quite finished.  The room was lined with shelves and desks, most of which looked pretty organized with their colorful bottles and stacks of parchment.  The lab tables in the center of the room were much messier.  Some had overturned inkwells, other had various powders and potions tipped over or uncapped or rolling dangerously close to the tables’ edges.

“I can do something about the scars no problem,” she sighed, “but the metal vessel is going to take a while.”

“Can I put my clothes back on now?”

“Oh self-conscious, are we?” She teased him.  He fought the urge to spit on her.

“At least I can put my robes on without my tits sagging out.”  He smirked at the scandalized look she gave him.

“You may put your clothes back on, Ja’far.”  His smirk dropped at Rurumu’s tone.

He stomped over to the chair next to her, and scooped up the robes he’d discarded earlier.  He shrugged them on as quickly as he could.  Rurumu had brought his old clothes back when she’d woken him up that morning, or at least she’d brought back what had actually survived the wash.  Most of the bandages were beyond saving, which he had anticipated, which left his pants and cloak and cap.  His pants had too many patches to really be called pants any more, and the cloak didn’t exactly cover much, so he’d opted to stay in the cream-colored robes Rurumu had supplied him with.

“It’s a pity Sinbad didn’t get up in time for this,” Yamu grinned as she jotted something down on a floating piece of parchment.  “Not only would it have been helpful to have someone else with an affinity for Rukh here, he missed out on quite the show.”  Great, she was just fucking with him now.

“Yamu,” chided Rurumu.  Ja’far gripped the hems of his sleeves tightly.  “Sinbad needs his sleep.  He has other things to take care of this morning, and he doesn’t need to be here.”

“What my body looks like doesn’t matter,” Ja’far muttered.  “Can you help or not?”

“Probably?  I’m not entirely sure yet.  I need to do some command calculations and experiments.”  She gave a heavy huff.  “Honestly if we knew more about the black Rukh, this would be a lot easier.”

“What do you need to know about the black Rukh?” Ja’far asked.

Yamu’s eyes lit up.  “You know about the black Rukh?”

“Not much, but I know a little.  What do you need to know?”

“Well, first of all, how do they make black Rukh?  Are the black and white Rukh separate beings?”

“No.  Black Rukh is just white Rukh that’s been dyed by the will of a magician.”

Yamu’s hands clenched up and her eyes widened.  “The will of a magician?”

“Yeah.”  Ja’far blew out a heavy breath.  “The one who dyed the Rukh in the vessel in my back was Falan.  I don’t quite know how they did it though.  I passed out about five minutes into the procedure.”

“Understandable.  It looks like they used a combination of life and heat magic to implant it.”  She scribbled something down.  “Do you know how this Falan tainted the Rukh?”

“No.  All they said was that the Rukh would now carry out _their_ will, as if it had been carrying out someone else’s will up until that point.”

“ _Their_ will?  What else would the Rukh be doing?” Yamu tapped her quill on her chin.  “That’s what magic is all about.  Well, I guess the next question would be what was their will?  Why did they put this in your back?”

“Experimentation and protection, I think,” he sighed back.  He hadn’t expected this many questions, although he supposed he should have, given her personality.  “I wasn’t the first one they had implanted something in, and I definitely wasn’t the last.”

Rurumu spoke up this time, “Does that mean if other Sham Lash agents show up we need to be worried about more metal vessels like this one?”

“Everyone else who underwent the procedure is dead.”

“Oh,” Yamu whispered.  “Well, um, do you know what the aim of these experiments were?”

“Not really.  I’m assuming it was an attempt to find a way to keep those implanted alive, or maybe to force us to be obedient.  They didn’t exactly brief me on their plans.”

“I suppose they wouldn’t.  I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Hmph.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“No.”  There was, but he was done talking today.  Yamu was too energetic for him.  He turned to Rurumu.  “Take me back to my room, now.”  He grit his teeth when Rurumu only blinked at him, unmoved.  “ _Please_ take me back to my room?”

“Of course!  Follow me.”

“Thank you Ja’far, this information is probably more important than either of us realize,” Yam called after them.  Ja’far grunted at her again.  The heavy door shut behind them, and Rurumu began walking at a slow pace, so Ja’far could keep up with her long strides.

“This isn’t the way to my room,” Ja’far mumbled.

“You have a new room.  Sinbad and I have both decided that if you are going to be a Sindrian citizen, it hardly seems fitting to have you locked away in a cell.  So you will be staying in a guest room until we can decide where you will be working.”

Ja’far didn’t say another word.  He didn’t understand Rurumu’s reasoning, let alone Sinbad’s.  After a few more minutes of silent walking (or tripping over his robes, in Ja’far’s case), Rurumu stopped in front of a door identical to every other in the hall.

“This is where you will be staying for the time being.”

Ja’far stepped into the room, but whipped back to face Rurumu.  “You’ve got to be joking.”

“No,” Rurumu said, confusion pressing her eyebrows together.  “This is your new room.”

“Why would you waste a room this nice on someone you can’t even trust?”

“I think we can trust you enough to give you the basic amenities, Ja’far.”

The room was wide and white, much like the rest of the palace, with blue and purple tile accents.  The bed was much larger than the one in his cell and it had a ridiculous amount of linen piled on top of it.  There was a good-sized basin in the corner, and there was even a book shelf full of parchment rolls, not that Ja’far could even read them.  There were a few tropical looking plants sitting on wooden dressers and nightstands.  Ja’far was so confused.

“Th-this isn’t basic,” he finally managed.  “You don’t need to treat me like some sort of charity case, you know.”

“Ja’far, listen to me.”  He cringed.  That was her ‘I am serious, and in no way messing around’ voice, and Ja’far hated that he could already distinguish it from her normal voice.  “This is what every basic guest room looks like.  We are giving this to you, not out of a misguided sense of charity, but with the expectation that you will pay us back with hard work and loyalty.”

“Fucking stupid,” he hissed under his breath.  “I’m just gonna screw you over in the end you know.”

“I’m becoming less and less sure that that’s true, Ja’far.”

“The hell am I supposed to even do?”

“Well, that’s up to you.”

“I can’t read that shit,” he pointed to the shelves full of parchment.

“Well, you can always explore the castle grounds if you so choose.”

“I can _what_?”

“Explore the castle grounds.  We are not going to lock your door.  You may come and go from this room as you please.  You might even consider finding some other employees to make friends with.”

“Friends?” he laughed.  “You people really are idiots!  I can’t make friends.  I don’t want friends.  And I don’t need your permission anymore, it seems.”

“We trust that you will use your new freedom wisely.  And if you are incapable, we will not hesitate to return you to your previous cell.”

Rolling his eyes, Ja’far twirled a piece of hair between his fingers.  “Whatever.  I can’t really promise I won’t destroy the palace or something.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” she said with straight lips.  She stood and watched while he tentatively explored the room, long robes in his hands.

“I-if you all trust me that much,” he hesitated, “Could I have my darts back?  Just the darts.”

“No one is going to attack you here.  You won’t need them.”

“But I do need them,” he clenched his teeth, and squeezed the fabric in his hands.

“I don’t understand.  Why do you need them?”

“I just do.  I need them.  If I’m going to be allowed out of this room, I need protection.”

“From what?”

“I don’t know!” he finally snapped.  “I don’t know why I need them, but I’m naked without them!”

“Alright,” Rurumu conceded.  “We’ll have another deal then.  Once you learn how to read, you may have your darts back.”

“Are you fucking serious?  That’ll take forever!”

“Well then, it’ll be more motivation for you to learn, now won’t it?”

“Please,” he begged, tears pricking his eyes.  So much for Sham Lash’s negotiation training.  This was so fucking embarrassing, and he wanted to die at the way Rurumu’s eyes softened on him.

“I am not going to budge on this Ja’far.”

“I can’t learn to read!  Don’t you fucking get it?  I’m an idiot!  I can’t lear- Shit!  What the hell was that for?”  He rubbed the quickly forming bump on his head where Rurumu had just struck him.

“Don’t you dare let me hear those words from you ever again, am I clear?”

“What words?”

“You are not an idiot, and you are not incapable of learning.  I will not have you thinking so lowly of yourself, do you understand?”

“No!  I don’t!  I don’t understand you people at all!”  Ja’far felt his tears finally spill over his cheeks.  “You keep giving me things in the hopes that I’ll change?  You promise to save me after I tried to kill your king?  You keep telling me I’m _worth_ something?  Why?  What do you gain from this?  I don’t get it!  I don’t…”

“Ja’far,” Rurumu sighed.  She approached him and slowly reached out.  “The things you have thought were true your whole life are all lies.  You are worth just as much as anyone else.  In fact, you are worth the same as His Majesty.”  Ja’far knew she was going to try and embrace him.  He was afraid of being confined to her arms, but a small part of him almost wanted that confinement.  Maybe it would hold him together when he felt like everything was falling apart around him.  He tensed as her arms wrapped around him, but he tried his best to relax.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he rasped.

“I know.  But it is true, Ja’far.  Sinbad would tell you the same thing.  That was one of the reasons he founded this country; so everyone could see that there was a way for a king to stand with his people, rather than above them.”

Ja’far began to shake when Rurumu pressed a hand to his head.  “Please let go of me.”

Rurumu immediately released him, but let her hand trail down a lock of his hair.

“I am proud of you Ja’far, both for your behavior towards Yamu today, and for being open with me now.”  Ja’far wiped his eyes and snorted when he tried to suck up some of the snot threatening to drip down his lips.  “Come here,” said Rurumu as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pants.  She coaxed Ja’far over to her and began aggressively cleaning up his face for him.  She pressed the cloth to his nose and said, in her most motherly tone, “Now blow.”

Once she was satisfied that he was all clean, she ushered him into bed.

“You’ve had a long day already Ja’far.  Take a nap.  I’ll wake you up for lessons when I’m done with my work.”

So Ja’far huddled himself under the covers and was asleep before Rurumu had even closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so just a quick note, the reason that Ja'far is having such a hard time accepting anything and keeps flip flopping in terms of his emotions and trust is because I'm trying to make his rehabilitation as realistic as I possibly can. I dislike it when a single conversation dramatically changes a character's mind set, especially in cases like this where the character was RAISED on the philosophy that is supposed to change. Things like that, in my experience, are gradual and a lot of hard work. So I apologize if this is boring to read since it's a lot of repetition of the same ideas, but,,, I'm trying,,, to be realistic?? It should start to tone down soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late! I actually had to move yesterday for my job, so I didn't really have much time to write, and I'm still way behind where I want to be in the story lmao, so that's why this chapter is late and also kind of short. Sorry,,

It was almost time for the second to last night of Maharagon when Sinbad decided to visit Ja’far.  He didn’t even think to knock on the door, so he knew that Ja’far’s hunched posture was candid.  The newest member of the Sindrian Kingdom was sitting in his bed, legs spread wide, quill in hand.  He looked up when Sinbad entered, and Sinbad didn’t quite manage to catch the laugh that slipped out.

“The fuck is so funny?”

“Nothing, you just have…ink all over your face.”

Immediately, Ja’far began scrubbing his face in embarrassment.  Sinbad toned down his smile, even though Ja’far only spread the smudges farther across his nose.  Sinbad approached Ja’far where he sat in the heaps of linen.

“So I’m assuming your first lessons went well.”

“I guess.”

“And I got the report from Yamuraiha.  It sounds very complicated.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?  Did you _enjoy_ your lessons?  Did you like Yamu?  Anything?”

Ja’far rolled his eyes and shrugged.  He went back to scratching shaky letters into the unrolled parchment in front of him.

“Your handwriting is terrible.”

“Wow, fucking incredible,” Ja’far said with a flick of his wrists.  “It’s almost like I’ve never written before!”

“Sorry,” Sinbad sighed. “That came out wrong.  I meant to say that you’re holding the quill wrong.”  He was pretty sure Ja’far wouldn’t throttle him at this point, so he reached over and took the quill from his hand.  “You hold it like this, see?  You gotta rest the end on your middle finger.”

“It was working fine the way I was doing it,” huffed Ja’far.  He took the quill back from Sinbad in a way that could have been called ‘snatching’, but wasn’t quite rude enough.

“Yeah, well, this is more comfortable and it’ll improve your handwriting.  I-Is that your name?”

“Hell if I know,” he shrugged back.  “Rurumu just said to start with these letters, so I did.”

“I think it’s supposed to be your name.  Do you have her copy?  Yeah, look.  That’s your name.”  They both looked at Rurumu’s steady, tiny handwriting at the head of a roll parchment.  Below it ran several failed attempts by Ja’far to copy the letters.

“This is stupid,” Jaf’ar grumbled.  “What do you want anyways?”  He pushed everything off his bed but the small well of ink, which tipped dangerously among the sheets and the bag of sand, which luckily had its drawstring pulled tight.

“I just wanted to check up on you, that’s all.”  Ja’far squinted suspiciously at him.  Sinbad held up his hands.  “I do actually want things to work out for you here, you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“I do.”

“Fuck off.”  Ja’far placed the ink and sand gently on the ground next to the mess of parchments he’d just made.  Sinbad then watched incredulously as Ja’far turned over in his bed and pulled the covers over his shoulders.

“Is that supposed to be my cue to leave?”

“It’s whatever the hell you want it to be, Dick-face.”

“God, could you not act like a child for five minutes?”

“What?  You gonna spank me or some shit?”

“If that’s what it comes to!”  He ran a hand through his bangs.

“Fucking dirty old man, that’s what you are.”

“Wh-what?  Oh, very funny, jerk.  I didn’t mean it sexually!”  Sinbad could practically hear Ja’far rolling his eyes.  “You know, I take time out of my busy schedule to come check up on you, and all you do is curse at me and ridicule me.  After everything we’ve given you here!”

Ja’far whipped around in his bed to face Sinbad.  “Yeah, everything you’ve given me, which by the way, you offered.  You don’t get to hold all this over my head, got it?  I might as well have stayed with Sham Lash.”

Sinbad felt his mouth open to say something, but his voice took a moment to catch up.  “We’re better than Sham Lash,” he stated lamely.

Laughing, Ja’far shot back, “Not with the way you’re acting!  Think about it.  You saw my sorry ass and thought, ‘Yeah, let’s offer this guy room and board in exchange for labor!’  How is that any different than what Sham Lash did for me, huh?”

Again, Sinbad was at a loss for words.  He cursed Ja’far’s ability to pull arguments out of his ass.  “There is so much wrong with what you just said.”

Ja’far laughed humorlessly.  “There’s literally no difference!”

“You won’t be killing anyone.”  Sinbad let out a breath when Ja’far faltered slightly.

“So the work isn’t quite so dirty.  Means the accommodations are cleaner.  Big fucking deal.”

“What do you want me to say, Ja’far?  You can’t get something for nothing?  You want me to say everything’s already forgiven?  Would it be easier for you to accept that I’m still furious about you trying to kill me?”  Sinbad could feel the pulse in his neck speed up.  “Just give me a fucking hint, would you?” he finally yelled.  He glanced back up at Ja’far, and found two pick round eyes staring back at him.  “What?”

“Curse words sound dumb coming from you.  Don’t use them.”  And then Ja’far there himself back into his nest of sheets, facing away from Sinbad.  With a sigh, Sinbad turned and headed for the open door.  He put a hand to the frame and looked back over his shoulder.

“Good night, Ja’far.”

As he closed the door, he thought he heard Ja’far reciprocate the sentiment.

Sharrkan greeted Sinbad with a boisterous shout when he finally made his way out to the royal pavilion.  Most of the generals and their spouses or children were milling about the tables in the lamplight, snatching pieces of food randomly.  For his part, Sharrkan was exactly where Sinbad expected to find him.  Back near some billowy curtains there were a few chaise lounges that Sinbad and Sharrkan liked to use when drinking.  And there Sharrkan was, drowning in approximately four women and his fourth glass of wine, if his bright red cheeks were any indication.  Sinbad made a bee line for the lounge next to him.

“Finally made it out from that heap uh paperwork, huh?” he gave Sinbad a slap on the back as his king joined him.  Sinbad sighed heavily.  He motioned for one of the women to give him her glass of wine, which she did gladly.

“I wish.  I went to check on our new charge.  I need you to check for gray hairs.”

“He’s that stressful, huh?  Oh no, there’s a bald spot, Your Majesty!”

“What?”  Sinbad’s free hand immediately went to his head.  Sharrkan spluttered out a drunken laugh.  “Asshole.”

“Sorry, you’re just so vain, Your Majesty.  It’s fun to tease you sometimes.”  Maybe it was Sharrkan’s fifth glass.  Sinbad sighed again.  He took a swig of alcohol and grimaced at the taste.

“This stuff is terrible!  Is this what they’re serving everyone?”

“Well,” Sharrkan drawled lazily, “It has been six days that we’ve…been partying.  One of the servers said sumthin about running out yesterday.”

Sinbad took the glass of wine from Sharrkan’s hand.  He didn’t even fight back, so Sinbad knew he had already had too much.

“Have you been sober once this week?”

Sharrkan held up one finger and nuzzled into the neck of the closest woman.  “One time.”

“When?”

“Dunno.  Two days ago?”

“Well, you’re done drinking.”

“Why aren’t you drunk yet, huh?  If that assassin kid is so awful, why aren’t you chugging it down?”

“He’s not awful,” Sinbad said, trying to be diplomatic.  He took another sip of his wine.  “He’s just hard to understand, so he’s hard to deal with.”

“Drink, drink!”

“It’s bad.  I can’t do more than sip it.”

“You haven’t even talked to the girls yet,” Sharkkan slurred back.

“How could I be so rude?” Sinbad turned up his charm and gave a warm smile, even though he was exhausted.  “How are you doing tonight, ladies?”

Two of them replied that they were doing great, the one in Sharkkan’s lap was otherwise occupied, but the last one pouted up at him.

“I’d be a whole lot better if you weren’t so stressed out, Your Majesty.”

Honestly, straight-forward girls like her were his favorite.  He grinned wider and leaned towards her.

“Well, the night can only get better from here.”  Her pout disappeared and she took a generous sip of wine from her glass.  Sinbad followed suit.

~

Once Sinbad had left, and Ja’far was sure he wouldn’t be coming back in unannounced, Ja’far lit a candle and slid out of bed to sit on the floor.  He rearranged the parchments in their respective piles and took up his quill again.  If this was his name, he needed to know it in every conceivable way.  He had never had an opinion of his name before, but when he glanced at Rurumu’s little scribbles, he couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest surge of pride.  He liked the way it looked.  If he knew what pretty things were like, he might even call it pretty, but he couldn’t determine that on his own, so he didn’t think about it too hard.

He refused to let Sinbad make fun of his handwriting ever again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating recently with no warning aaaaaaaa last weekend I had to drive home to go to wedding and then right back to school halfway through the reception so i didn't have much time to write. I'm also gonna change my update schedule so it's every other Saturday, just because I'm taking six credits in a half semester, and I'm also working, so time is kind of scarce. Anyway, a slightly longer chapter for your troubles <3

“Rurumu,” Ja’far pressed the parchment into her hand.  “Is this right?”

She kept writing on her own sheet, probably settling accounts or something, but she eventually did take her a moment to look over the letters.  As stupid as it was, Ja’far couldn’t help but feel nervous every time he handed her papers.

“This is fantastic Ja’far!  Just be careful with letters like this,” she pointed at the word “night”.  “Make sure the dots and lines are over the right letters or-”

“The meaning could change.  Got it.”

“Very good job though.  You’re making some very impressive strides.”

“Thank you.”

It had been a week since the end of Maharagon.  Ja’far hadn’t attended the last day, mainly because he didn’t want to see Sinbad, but also because he had been studying so much.  He had spent the past week in the library with Rurumu and Kikiriku working his way through every exercise Rurumu laid out for him.  It was actually kind of amazing, in his opinion.  There were so many things he hadn’t known before.  He’d never had to count higher than a hundred, so when Rurumu had set some math problems before him with numbers over five-hundred, Ja’far had been so surprised.  Then he had learned that the word ‘thousand’ wasn’t just an expression of largeness, but an actual number.  He had walked around the castle halls in awe for the rest of the day.  And Kikiriku had been reading him short volumes of history.  Ja’far had been surprised to learn that there had been so many viziers and kings that shared his name.  There was just so much had never questioned, never thought about in his time as an assassin.  Sometimes he thought he might forget everything overnight.

“Can I do some math problems now?”

“You already did your math problems already,” Rurumu laughed.  “You need to focus on your reading and writing.

“Math is easier.”

Rurumu laughed again.  Ja’far heard Kikiriku make a rude noise from her other side.

“Math is boring!” he said.  “Reading is better.  There’s all kinds of stories to read.”

“Both reading and mathematics have their places.  Ja’far, your math skills are already satisfactory at the moment.  I’d like you to focus on reading.  And Kikiriku, I’d appreciate if you didn’t try and worm your way out of your math problems.”

Ja’far snorted when Kikiriku replied with, “But Mo-o-om!”

“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me!  Get to work!”  She went back to her own documents, and Kikiriku took a long-suffering sigh.  Ja’far tapped his quill on the new sheet of parchment before him, one hand twirling his hair.

He liked Rurumu.  It was a weird feeling, considering he’d never given much mind to liking versus disliking.  He disliked his enemies, and barely tolerated his fellow assassins.  There wasn’t much room for “liking” other people.  But he liked Rurumu.  Even though she scolded him when he made messes, or drew all over Kikiriku’s face a few days ago, or when Kikiriku snuck extra dessert into the library to share with Ja’far.  He supposed he liked Kikiriku too.  Sometimes he’d get this strange feeling in his stomach when he looked at them laughing together.  Rurumu and her son were so happy most of the time, and they seemed to enjoy each other’s company.  That weird feeling only got worse when Rurumu brought her other kids in to work with them, or when Hinahoho came to visit.

They were just…so happy.  It was almost gross.  Ja’far pulled on his hair harder as he thought about it.  It wasn’t anger, he decided.  It wasn’t sadness either.  It was almost nostalgic, but he couldn’t quite figure out what the nostalgia would be for.

Near the front of the library, a door opened and closed.  Ja’far scratched some letters into his parchment absentmindedly.  He could recognize most of the letters now with no trouble, so it was nice being able to put them together into words, but it wasn’t as satisfying as adding numbers or counting coins into tens.

His writing hand bumped into someone else’s hand and he jumped.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were left handed.”  Sinbad was just barely behind him, setting down a cup full of dark liquid.  Jaf’ar glared at him and then switched the quill to his right hand to continue writing.

“You can write with both hands?”  Sinbad seemed surprised.

“Of course I can write with both hands.  What would be the point in only being able to write with one?”

“That’s why it’s taking him so long to learn to write,” Rurumu said, smiling down at her papers.  “He insists on being well-balanced, I suppose.  Did you bring us coffee?”

“Yeah.  I haven’t seen Ja’far in a while and figured you could use some energy.”  He set a mug down by Rurumu as well.

“Ja’far, what do you say when people give you things?” Rurumu prodded.

“…Thank you.”  It was definitely grumbled unwillingly, but Sinbad still grinned at Ja’far.  Idiot.

Ja’far didn’t really know what coffee tasted like, as it was a luxury he’d never been able to indulge in, but he’d always admired the smell as he walked by coffee brewers in market places.  The mug was warm in his hands as he lifted it to his lips.

“This is good,” he said in shock.  Sinbad immediately bent over.

“Yeah?  You like it?”

“Yeah.”  Ja’far shied away from the king.  “It tastes like it smells.”

“It’ll give you some more energy too,” Sinbad grinned.  “I can’t stand the stuff, but I’m glad you like it.”

Rurumu sputtered next to them.  “Sinbad,” she coughed, “you made this yourself, didn’t you?”

“Still that bad, huh?” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“Momma, can I have it?” Kikiriku asked.

“No, this will keep you up all night.  Keep working on your math problems.”

He grunted, but took his quill back up.  “I’m going to go make some real coffee.  If you’d like, you can have that one Ja’far.”  She stood up and Sinbad moved out the way so she could get behind Ja’far.

“Okay, Momma.”  It took him a second, but once he heard the words come out, he slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Did…did you just call Rurumu your mom?” Sinbad gaped.  Rurumu for her part looked over-joyed.  Her big blue eyes were even rounder than usual, and she clasped her hands in front of her chest.

“Fuck you, Sinbad.”

“Momma, what does ‘fuck you’ mean?” Kikiriku asked.  Ja’far didn’t even need to look up to know that Rurumu’s good mood was already gone.  A strong slap to the back of his head told him he was right.

“How many times must we go over this, Ja’far?  That vocabulary isn’t fitting for a place like this!”

“What does ‘fuck you’ mean?”

“Those aren’t words you need to know, Kiki,” Rurumu commanded.  Kikiriku shrugged and turned his attention back to his paper.  But then he looked up again.  “Does this mean Ja’far is my big brother now?”

Rurumu’s scowl softened into another soft smile.  “Only if he wants to be.”  Then she left to make herself coffee.

“Welcome to the family, Ja’far,” Sinbad teased.

“Get any closer and I’ll stab you with my quill.”

“Oh, come on!  You don’t want to be Kikiriku’s brother?”

“I’m not part of their family.”

Sinbad pulled out a chair next to Ja’far and sat down, much to Ja’far’s displeasure.

“You hear that Kikiriku?  Ja’far doesn’t want to be your big brother.”

Kikiriku shrugged.  “I guess that’s okay.  Kinda disappointed though.”

“And why’s that?”

“It means I’m still the biggest brother.  I have to take care of everyone else.  I don’t like responsibility,” he sighed.

“Well, you can’t just push your responsibilities off on others and expect them to be thrilled,” huffed Ja’far.

“Oh, hey, your handwriting has gotten better.  I’m still impressed you can do that,” he nodded as Ja’far switched back to writing with his left hand.

“Why would I only learn to write with one hand?”

“Why would you need to learn to write with both?”

“What it I lost my writing hand?”

“Why would you lose your writing hand?”

Ja’far cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I’m an assassin.  Serious injury isn’t exactly unheard of.”

“Well, hopefully you won’t have to worry about that too much in the future.”

“You brought the coffee.  Now you’re distracting me from my lessons.  Go away.”

“Oh, so I’m distracting, am I?” Sinbad teased some more.

“I can assure you it wasn’t a compliment,” Ja’far grumbled.  The grip on his quill was getting tighter and tighter with each passing comment.  Not cursing in front of Kikiriku was taking its toll.

“I actually did want to talk to you about the metal vessel.”  Ja’far’s grip loosened slightly.

“What about?”

“Well, I’ve been checking in with Yamu every morning to see what she’s doing, but it seems she’s hit another impasse.”

“I see her every day too.  How could she have hit an impasse?”

“I’m not the one to ask about that.  Anyway, I’m going to be coming with you tomorrow when you see her.  She thinks I might be able to offer some advice, although I’m not too confident.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Offer advice?”

“Come with us.”

“You don’t really get a choice in this, Ja’far.  Regardless of how lax we are with you, you are still a large threat to our country’s security, so until we remove the metal vessel from your back, you don’t really get a choice in these matters.”

Ja’far set his quill down, stood without a word, and left the table, without taking his coffee with him.  He walked as quickly as he could through the towering stacks of parchment rolls.  He heard Sinbad coming after him until he reached the door.  He swung around a hall corner and watched as Sinbad burst from the room, looked around the hallway, and charged off towards Ja’far’s room.  Ja’far let out a deep breath and silently slipped back into the library.  Before he even sat back down at the table, Rurumu strode in and gave him a quizzical look.

“Is everything alright?  I just saw His Majesty in the halls asking after you.”

“I gave him the slip,” Ja’far mumbled.  “He was talking too much and distracting me from my work.”

“He kept flirting with Ja’far,” Kikiriku added in agreement.  Ja’far felt his jaw drop.

“I don’t think you know what that word means, squirt,” he chuckled out.

“No, he kept flirting with you.  That’s how he talks to the girls he likes.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Rurumu sighed.

“He’s just being an ass is all.”  Ja’far crossed his arms.

“Please try and accommodate the king,” urged Rurumu.  “I understand you may not like him, but you do need to understand that he has gone to great personal and national ends to keep you here and keep you safe.”

“I know that,” Ja’far shot back.  “I just wish he’d stop making fun of me, and rubbing my face in things.  Even when I think, maybe, just for one second, that he’s trying to have a proper conversation with me, he finds something to make fun of!  It’s infuriating!  And now!” Ja’far laughed humorlessly, “and now, he wants to come and watch me strip in front of that seashell bitch so he can make fun of me even more!”

“Ja’far,” said Rurumu, “you can’t refer to Yamu like that.  Apologize right now.”

“No!  I’m tired of having to follow your rules!  Don’t touch me!”  He swatted her hand away as it reached toward his face.

“Ja’far,” she chided.  She reached out again and wiped away a tear Ja’far hadn’t even noticed.  He felt a shiver run through his stomach.  “I want you to apologize to Kikiriku for insulting his favorite auntie.  Can you do that for me please?”

With a deep, shaky breath, he managed out the words, “I’m sorry.”

“Now, I don’t know what King Sinbad said to you, but I can guarantee that he does not want to come to our consultations with Yamu to make fun of you.  He wants to be there so he can offer help.  He may not look it, but His Majesty has quite the way with the Rukh.”  Ja’far didn’t look up at her, so she continued.  “If you’d like I can say something to him.”

“I don’t want him there.”

“I know.  But he’s made up his mind, and he’s rather stubborn.”

“So you all just let him walk all over you?”

“He is the king.  And I’ll have you know I chastise him all the time, but it never seems to matter too much when he’s made up his mind,” she sighed.  “Honestly, we really should have someone on his tail at all times.  I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I still don’t want him there.”

“I’ll talk to him, but there are no garuntees.”

“I’m done for today.”  He stood up again, and started to move back towards the door.

“Did you want the rest of this coffee?  It’ll get cold here with no one to drink it.”

Ja’far took both cups of mediocre coffee and left the library with barely the whisper of his robes swishing.

Kikiriku gave a heavy huff.  “I don’t care what he says, His Majesty was flirting with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ja'far and Sinbad's relationship will be moving forward from now on,, Can't wait for that angst :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had pretty much this entire chapter written by Monday this week, but then my computer was like, "Hey what if I just,,,,restarted. Without saving your files :)" So I got to rewrite all of this yesterday.. I mean, I like this version a little better, but I was kind of screaming the whole time I wrote it so enjoy I guess?//

Sinbad was glad he had woken up a little earlier than usual.  Rurumu came to get him while he was pulling on first layer of robes behind his privacy screen.  He’d woken up naked again, and as much as he didn’t think she’d care, he congratulated himself on avoiding an awkward situation.

“We’ll be meeting Yamu and Ja’far there.  Do I need to call Vittel in?”

“What? No!”  He tied his shawl around his shoulders.  “I might be a king, but I can still dress myself.”  He could feel Rurumu’s amused disbelief through the screen, and despite his words, he was glad Vittel had left the previous day’s turban wrapped and ready.  He didn’t think he’d be able to figure it out himself anymore.  He pulled it onto his head and slipped his hands through his bracelets.  He probably wouldn’t need more than two metal vessels, but he grabbed Valefor’s necklace anyway, quickly draping it over his shoulders.

“Alright, let’s go.  They’re in Yamu’s office, right?”

“Yes.  Black Libra Tower.”

They walked through the palace mostly in silence, but Sinbad could tell there was something Rurumu had to say.  By the time they reached the Libra Tower, the sun had already risen.

“Whatever it is you’re trying to find a way to say, you can just say, Rurumu.”

“Ja’far doesn’t want you here today.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Do you know why?”

“I’m assuming it’s because he still feels like I’m a threat.  That or he just hates me.”

“And do you know why he still feels like you’re a threat, Your Majesty?”

“Not particularly.  I haven’t threatened him recently, I don’t think.”

“The reason Ja’far doesn’t want you at the consultations is because he thinks you’ll make fun of him.”

Sinbad gaped.  “What? Is he eleven?”

“He might as well be.  He didn’t exactly get a childhood, nor did he have a chance to grow up.”

“I just teased him a little!”

“And he thinks you’ll tease him for his body.”  She pursed her lips.  “It’s a little shocking, to be honest.  Someone with a harder heart might actually ridicule him.”

Sinbad couldn’t find any words.  He had only treated Ja’far the same way he treated everyone else.  He refused to dwell on tragic things, and deflected with humor and innuendo.  That was just how he coped.

“I want you to apologize to him.”

“For what?  Teasing him?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.  I’ll apologize.  I still think he’s being over-sensitive though.”

“Regardless, I don’t think he’ll let the consultation happen if you don’t at least apologize.”

He waved her off.  “I said I’d do it didn’t I?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

They proceeded to Yamu’s office, and found Ja’far sitting at one of the cleaner tables.  Yamu was pulling scrolls off of shelves and waving a hand around as she gushed about magic.

“…so you would have a propensity for life magic if you were a magician.  In fact the purple Rukh around you are probably what’s kept you alive this long.  Does that make sense?”

“They’re here,” responded Ja’far.  His posture had changed from mildly interested to aloof the moment he’d spotted Sinbad.

“Oh, Your Majesty!  Perfect timing.  Here hold these for a minute.”  She dumped the armful of scrolls into his hands, then zipped over to an open book on another table.  Rurumu nudged Sinbad towards the table where Ja’far was sitting.

“Ja’far, I, uh, Rurumu has brought it to my attention that my behavior yesterday upset you.”  Ja’far didn’t say anything in reply, just flipped the page of a book Sinbad hadn’t notice earlier.  Taking a deep breath, Sinbad pressed on.  “I hadn’t intended for my comments or behavior to be hurtful, and I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize I had upset you.”

Ja’far finally looked up from the book, looking unamused.  “I was my understanding,” he drawled, “that an apology was supposed to be sincere.”

Sinbad grinned awkwardly and laughed, but eyed Rurumu for help.  Apparently she was going to let him deal with this on his own.  He was about to launch into another small speech, but Ja’far cut him off.

“I suppose I can be as sincere in accepting your apology as you were in giving it.”  Sinbad wanted to interrupt and say that he’d been as sincere as he could be, but Ja’far gave him no opening.  “But if you make one snide comment, and I mean one, this whole deal is off, and I’m going to kill you like I was supposed to.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Sinbad almost laughed.  Ja’far grunted, and was about to go back to his book when Yamu dropped another load of scrolls and a few books onto the table.

“Alright Ja’far, let’s see it again.”  Ja’far stood, and began pulling his robes off his shoulders.  “C’mon,” Yamu prompted, “All the way off.”

Ja’far grumbled again, but complied.  Sinbad tried to not show how angry he suddenly was.  Rurumu had been right. Ja’far’s body was covered in scars of varying size and age.  Some were distinct lash marks, and others looked like hastily done stitches, but the angry red scars on the insides of Ja’far’s knees infuriated Sinbad.  He clenched his teeth and felt the bite of his nails in his palms.

Rurumu put a hand on Sinbad’s shoulder.  “It’s okay, Your Majesty.”

“It’s not,” Sinbad whispered.  “It’s not okay.”

“Turn around.  Show His Majesty the vessel, please,” Yamu instructed.  Again, Ja’far was strangely obedient.  He turned, and Sinbad took a step closer to examine it.  It was a little difficult to tell where the metal vessel ended and where Ja’far’s skin began, since all the skin around the vessel was so purple it was almost black.  There was an ink line running in a shaky circle about an inch or two from the edge of the vessel, but the strange bruising pushed outward, up towards the ends of Ja’far’s shaggy white hair, and down towards the edge of his undergarments.

“See, I drew this about two days ago,” Yamu pointed to the ink line, “and at that point, that’s where the bruising ended.  So it’s progressing pretty quickly.”

“And I assume you have a theory?” he asked.

“From the information Ja’far has given us, it seems that the metal vessels slowly draw up the Rukh from their host and store them as black Rukh, but I can’t entirely sure.  There’s so little study on black Rukh.  Plus, we don’t even know which magician’s will was instilled in the Rukh.  I’ve been able to siphon off large quantities of the Rukh and keep them in jars for study, but there always seems to be more each day and I have no way to gauge the quantity past ‘a lot’.”  She sighed.

“Where has it progressed so far?” Ja’far piped up.

“Here,” Yamu placed the tips of her fingers at the edge of the bruise, where it faded into green and then into the white of Ja’far’s skin.

“And where is the line you drew?”

“Here.”

“That far?”

“Yes.”

Ja’far’s hand went to his hair and he began twisting a strand around his fingers.

“Did you remember something Ja’far?”  So Yamu had picked up on the kid’s nervous habit too.

“Well, I mean, you might as well just give up now.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just, if it’s progressed that far, I don’t have as much time as I thought.”

“Wait, what?” Sinbad grabbed his shoulder and Ja’far cringed away from him, like Sinbad might hit him. Immediately, Sinbad let go and put his hands up in a defensive manner.  Ja’far glared at him.

“About how long do you think you have?” Yamu asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Me, I guess.”

“What do you mean?  Just tell us what you know,” Sinbad pleaded.  Again, Ja’far shot him a dirty look.

“You weren’t the only one that underwent this procedure, were you Ja’far?  Surely there were other assassins that had metal vessels forced into them?” Rurumu asked

“Yeah.  How do you think I know what I do?”

Yamu grabbed a parchment and quill.  “Please, can you tell us as much as you remember about them?”

“There were only three others that refused to use the vessels,” Ja’far sighed.  He let his hand drop from his hair, and instead began picking at the skin around his nails.  “I wasn’t really close to any of them, but we all got beaten around the same times, since none of us would do what we were told.

“Once it starts spreading, it doesn’t stop.  And it eventually kills you.  Muhammad lasted about a week after it started progressing.  Sadiq made it a couple weeks, and Adia made it to a month and a half.”

“So you could be dead tomorrow then?” Yamu asked.

“Worst case, I guess.”

“How long has it been spreading?” Sinbad demanded from Yamu.

“A day before I drew the line, so three days?”

He turned back to Ja’far and said, “You’re not dying tonight.”  Ja’far rolled his eyes.  Yamu went to him and began ushering him back towards Sinbad.

“I’m going to have the king see how much black Rukh is left in the vessel,” she told Ja’far.  She looked up at Sinbad to confirm, and he nodded.  Ja’far resumed his position in front of them both, facing Rurumu.

“I’m going to touch you, Ja’far.  Please try not to move too much.”  He placed his hand on the metal vessel and pushed his magoi out through his fingertips.  “Shit!”  He snatched his hand away, clutching it to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Yamu said as she jumped to his side.

“Yamu, I’m forbidding you from pulling out anymore Rukh.”

“What?  Why?”

“It’s too much.  There’s too much.”  He unfolded his hand and examined the bright red skin of forming burns.  “I don’t even think I’d be able to take on that much.”

“You’re not allowed to take on anymore black Rukh,” she scolded.  “Here, Your Majesty, let me heal that.”

“Don’t bother.  You’re going to need all your strength to research a way to save him.”

Yamu sighed heavily and leaned back against one of the tables.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Ja’far glanced at them over his shoulder.  “Don’t bother.  Why not just let me die?”

“We’ve been over this, Ja’far,” Sinbad grit out.

“Circumstances are different.”

“We’re not letting you die after you just started being a Sindrian citizen.”

“Then I’ll return my citizenship.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Ja’far, we’ve been over this a few times,” Rurumu reminded him.  “And you know how stubborn His Majesty can be.”

“I’m not stubborn!”  Everyone in the room fixed him a blank stare.  “Oh, come on!”

“Are we done?” Ja’far asked.  “I’d like to but my clothes back on.”

Rubbing her forehead, Yamu said, “Yeah, there’s not much I can do at the moment if I’m not pulling Rukh out of you.”

Ja’far was starting to pull on his robes before she’d even finished her thought.  He walked over to Rurumu without another glance at Sinbad or Yamu.

“Can we go to the library now?  I want to get started on the problems you mentioned yesterday.”  He spoke so softly to her that Sinbad almost didn’t believe it was Ja’far speaking.

“Alright.  We need to get breakfast first though.”  Ja’far let out a deep breath.

“If we have to.”  And then they were out the door and Sinbad was alone with Yamu.

“So how much was there?” Yamu asked seriously.

“More than I have in me,” he replied.

“I can’t believe he’s not dead already.”

“In a way he is,” said Sinbad.  “He doesn’t care if he lives or dies.  I’ve never met anyone so apathetic.”

“It might be a façade,” she suggested.  She began spreading out the scrolls she’d placed on the table earlier.

“I thought that at first, but I think that he honestly doesn’t care anymore.  I think it’s like-”  He clamped his jaw shut at the flood of memories. “Never mind.  I suppose if we fail, we won’t need to feel any guilt.”

“I hate it when you get so utilitarian.”

“Me too.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna preface this with an apology: this chapter is super short and not a lot happens also it's super angsty??? I seem to really like writing unnecessary drama lmao  
> I've had a lot of stuff going on between school and conventions and friends so i didn't have as much time to spend on this chapter as I would have liked, and I'll probably go through and heavily edit this chapter once the whole thing is complete, but here yall go i guess haha

The peach sat there, unassuming.  The fact that the peach was there was not concerning.  Rather, it was the size of the peach.  Ja’far didn’t know much about fruit, but he was going to assume that a peach the size of his head was abnormal.  Just today, Ja’far had actually been able to enjoy peach without it tearing up his mouth too badly.  He couldn’t say he particularly cared for the taste, but the texture had been interesting.  The wet squelching had almost reminded him of the sound of a knife in flesh.  He was stabbing the peach.  He didn’t think too hard about where he’d gotten the knife.  All he cared about was the soft pulp bending and giving way under the pressure of a blade.  It was satisfying being able to destroy something after being reined in all week.  His knife point hit the peach pit, similar to the way a knife might glance off bone.  He felt himself smile.  He pulled his arm back, and stabbed again.  Again.  Again.  He kept going, refusing to believe he was doing anything wrong.  He looked up, he thought he’d heard a noise, but there was nothing.  He looked back down at the peach, but it wasn’t a peach anymore.  Sinbad lay there, dead and eviscerated.  There was blood all over the white tile where Ja’far knelt, and blood all over his hands.  Sinbad’s head was turned to the side, but Ja’far could still tell he had the same unfocused look in his eyes that all dead people had.  Ja’far wanted to throw up, but his hands acted on their own, and he stabbed Sinbad through the chest once more.

~

When Ja’far went to bed that night, he dreamed.  Up until the last week or so, he had never really slept deeply enough to have vivid dreams.  He never remembered them well, but he had woken up more than once in the middle of the night with a strange feeling of forgetfulness.  Tonight he woke up shivering, with a feeling of panic running up throat.  He needed to move, he decided.

He swung his legs out of bed and began walking.  When he opened his door and strode into the hallway, he didn’t have a destination in mind, but he knew he needed to get away.  A few doors worth of walking and he already felt much calmer, even if there was still a pit of disconcertion rolling around in his stomach.  The palace hallways were empty and dark.  He supposed the cool blue light cast on the tile floor should have been eerie if he weren’t so used to the night.

He passed more doors than he could count.  He turned corners at random.  Finally, his legs stopped itching, and he sat down, back against the wall.  Not knowing what else to do, he wept.

~

Yamu refused to see Rurumu and Ja’far the next morning.  “Much too busy,” she’d said, before slamming the door in their faces. To be fair, she did look like quite the mess.  So Ja’far and Rurumu ate breakfast with Hinahoho and their children, which was an experience, Ja’far supposed.  He might have snapped at them when Karako and Koraka if he hadn’t been so preoccupied, but as it were, they managed to swipe a pita from his plate each.

What was strange to Ja’far was that the prospect of heading to the library held no interest for him today.  If he had had his way he’d be heading right back to bed.  Unfortunately, Rurumu was a taskmaster if she was anything.  She dragged him to the library, sat him in his usual chair among the stacks, and set out a sheet of parchment with writing exercises for him.  Flumping over the table, he crossed his arms and tried to sleep.  Immediately reprimanded.

So he sighed, and quietly went about dipping his quill into his ink and scratching out some slow lines across the page.  By the time lunch rolled around, he had gotten approximately three lines written.  He could feel Rurumu’s frustrated gaze on him as Kikiriku finished his lunch and the last of his work for the day.  Ja’far could feel his hands shaking when the kid left.  He didn’t want to be left alone with Rurumu.  He didn’t need another heart-to-heart with her, or anyone for that matter.

“The maids have been busy lately,” she said.  Ja’far bit the inside of his cheek.  She continued on when she realized he wasn’t going to prompt her.  “They’ve been quite on edge since yesterday.”

“Hmm.”

“I overheard a few of them talking about a ghost this morning.”  Again, she waited for Ja’far to respond, but he refused.  “They said there was a ghost moaning and crying out last night.”

“Okay.  I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Why were you crying last night?”

“The hell?”

“You live near the maids’ quarters, Ja’far.  You’ve probably never noticed because you haven’t really explored the castle, other than here.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied.

“Ja’far, you received devastating news yesterday.  It wouldn’t be unheard of if you felt lost or upset.”

“I’m not upset!” he hissed, then in a softer voice, “I’m _not_ upset.”

He stiffened when Rurumu took his hand in hers.  “You aren’t alone in this Ja’far.  We’re doing everything we can to keep you alive.”

“And fat fucking chance we actually have!”

“So you do care,” Rurumu pulled him closer, even though he kept trying to pull away.

“I don’t care!  I don’t!  It doesn’t matter!”  But then she was hugging him and he felt almost as vulnerable as he did last night.

“It’s okay to be afraid, Ja’far.  I’m terrified of losing you.”

“I’m not scared!” but he could feel his throat closing up and warmth welling up in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Ja’far.  It’s okay.”

“I’m-I’m,” he stuttered out.  He was trying to say that he wasn’t scared and that he was okay at the same, but somehow they got mixed up and he choked out, “I’m not okay!”

Rurumu’s arms tightened around him.

“I’m not okay,” he began sobbing.  “I’m not okay!  I’m so scared!  I don’t want to die!” He hated crying.  He hated that Rurumu wasn’t letting go.  He was so mad.  Furious.  Furious was a better word.  He felt snot starting to drip out of his nose.

“It’s not fair!  How come I have to die, huh?  I thought it was okay,” the words kept tumbling out as he gasped for air.  He wanted to strangle himself.  “I didn’t know anything.  I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” Rurumu chanted as she rocked him back and forth.  He wanted to scream.  He didn’t need her coddling! He needed a solution.  He burrowed his face into her shoulder.

“I never knew anything,” he rasped out.  “It’s so much easier to die when you don’t know how much you don’t know.  I can’t die yet.  There’s so much I don’t know.”

“We aren’t going to let you die, Ja’far.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“His Majesty and Yamu won’t let it happen.”

Ja’far wiped his snot on Rurumu’s robes.  He was still crying, but this was too close for him.  He didn’t let go of her though.  And he didn’t pull away.  His grip on her clothes was too tight, and he’d lost feeling in his fingers.  Who needed a metal vessel in the back when he was going to die of embarrassment right here?

“Let’s get you back to your room, okay?”

He couldn’t bear to say any more so he just nodded.  He felt a wave of guilt at leaving his work undone, but Rurumu put him back on his feet and practically dragged him out of the library.  When they got to his room a few minutes later, she tucked him into bed, and then kissed his forehead.  Ja’far felt more tears coming at the action, so he turned away quickly.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a few hours,” she said as she was leaving.

Once he heard the door close, he spoke to the empty room, saying, “I’m sorry I’m a liar.”

~

“Your majesty,” Rurumu said as she entered his office without knocking.

“What’s wrong?”  He put his quill down and stood.

“Ja’far had a break down.  I’m worried about him.”

“A break down?  About…”

“Yesterday, yes.”

“I want to say I’m shocked, but-”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?  At all?”

“We’re already doing everything we can. You know that.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What did he say to you?  I haven’t seen you this frazzled since the twins wandered off a few years ago.”

“He just-” she sighed.  “He just finally realized he doesn’t want to die.  What kind of life ends just when it’s about to begin?  Where is the fairness in that?”

Sinbad forced his fists to relax.  “Did you see Yamu today?”

“No, she said she was too busy.”

“We must see her tomorrow, on my orders.”  He glanced around his office, with all its scrolls and parchments out of place.  He leaned over his desk and wrote out a note for Vittel deliver to Yamu later.  “You really do see him as your son now, don’t you?”

“He let me hug him today,” she whispered.  “He held onto me.  He didn’t even try to push me away.  Yes.  He _is_ my son now, even if he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Understood.  We won’t just let him die, alright?  Why don’t you and Hinahoho take the rest of the day off?”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’d rather distract myself.”

“As you like.”

She bowed to him, then left the room.  Sinbad sat back down behind his desk.  As he looked over his papers and contracts and request forms, he felt a wave of helplessness pass through him.

He didn’t know who or what he was praying to, but he prayed harder than he’d ever prayed before.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super super sorry for the late chapter! ;-; I've been really busy moving, helping friends move, working on cosplays and doing wig commissions,,, I'm heading back to school this Thursday, so I might have to modify my update schedule again, since my schedule is almost all English classes, which means a lot of writing :)) Anyway, this chapter is a little longer than usual, but if depression and mentions of suicide are a bad time for you, you may want to skip this chapter. Or at least skip down to the ~ break.

Sinbad let two days pass quietly.  To be honest, he was still struggling to catch up after he had halted all business and political matters for Maharagon.  Even Vittel in the office two doors down was struggling to negotiate trades and policies from dawn until dusk.  He couldn’t afford to let Ja’far’s situation, as awful as it made him feel, distract him from running his country.  If anything, Rurumu had been right.  Working kept him from thinking too hard about the possibility of the metal vessel activating, or of Ja’far dying; it kept him from feeling helpless.  But now he was getting antsy.  He wanted to believe that no news was good news, but it was getting hard for him to concentrate, so after lunch on that second day, he dismissed his attendants and saw himself to the library.  He strolled through it quietly, confused when he found it empty.

Rurumu’s office was only a few halls away, so he headed in that direction.

“It’s open,” she called from inside.  There was a tired twinge in her voice.  “Oh, Your Majesty.  I wasn’t expecting you.”  She began attempting to primp herself and put stripped quills away in their holders.  Sinbad closed the door behind him.

“You don’t need to try and clean up, your office is still cleaner than mine,” he sighed.  He watched her settle, feeling uncomfortable about the bags under her eyes.  He waited, since he assumed she knew why he was there.

She bit her lip, then pushed a hand into her hair.  “Ja’far isn’t doing well.”  Sinbad didn’t respond.  She glanced at him almost bashfully.  “He…he won’t get out of bed.  He won’t eat.  I don’t know what to do.”

“What about his lessons?”

“He says it doesn’t matter anymore.  He just wants to be left alone.”

“What about Yamu?  Have you heard anything from her?”

“I made her sleep last night.  She was so frustrated she couldn’t stop crying, and she knocked down a whole shelf of vials and potions.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Why does it look like you haven’t slept since I last saw you?”

“Probably because I haven’t.”

“Rurumu-”

“Your Majesty, I have a lot of work to catch up on, and if I went to bed, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

Sinbad wanted to scold her, but he understood all too well.  He clenched his teeth in frustration.  “I’m going to see him.”

“Let me come with you?” Rurumu almost begged.  “I have one last idea to get him out of bed.”

“If you want,” Sinbad nodded.  She went to rummage in a drawer near her hip and pulled something out, then she shoved it into a pocket.  He was glad she’d suggested coming along, as he didn’t know what to expect of Ja’far, and having her there would ease his mind.  She followed him out the door, and through the corridors until they reached Ja’far’s room.  Sinbad knocked, but received not answer.  He glanced at Rurumu, who sighed, but nodded him on.  When he opened the door, he figured that the room would be dark, but he could barely see in.  There was some rustling from where Sinbad knew the bed was.

He stepped in, again, followed by Rurumu.  For some reason, he didn’t want to be the one to break the silence as they cautiously approached the bed.  Finally, Rurumu spoke.

“Hey, Ja’far.”  No response.  “Have you eaten the lunch I brought you?”

“Ja’far?” Sinbad prompted when he still didn’t answer.  Rurumu felt her way onto the bed and sat at its edge.  Sinbad’s eyes were starting to adjust.  He could just barely make out Ja’far’s form from the light seeming to pour in from the door Rurumu had left just barely open.

“You didn’t eat.”

“…Not hungry.”  Finally.  Sinbad sighed in relief.  Hearing Ja’far’s voice, even as shaky and low as it was, at least meant he was responsive.

“Ja’far, please.  You need to eat something.  Drink some water at least.”

He pulled the covers even closer around himself.  “Don’t want to.”

“What _do_ you want to do?” Rurumu asked.  She sounded breathless, distressed.  Sinbad didn’t really know what to do.  For some reason, he was reminded of his mother, sitting in bed all day, coughing until her lungs gave up and she passed out.  He vaguely remembered that there were days where she would refuse to talk or eat, and sometimes he remembered he could hear her crying at night.

He had been too young to understand it then, but seeing Ja’far like this, combined with the memories of his mother was almost too much for Sinbad.

“I want to die.”

“You were so determined to live though!” Rurumu was starting to panic, Sinbad noted.  He let his mouth gape open, since he couldn’t think of anything to say.  Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Rurumu.  But if he hadn’t, what would have been the outcome of that?  Him sitting with Ja’far in silence?

“It doesn’t matter anymore.  Yamu isn’t going to find a cure.  There isn’t a cure.  It’s not worth it.”

“So you’re just giving up?”

Ja’far didn’t say anymore, but Rurumu leaned over him and wiped something, tears, Sinbad assumed, from his cheeks.

“You know, I brought these to give back to you.”  Rurumu pulled Ja’far’s darts out of her pocket.  “You’ve worked very hard and you’re so close to being profi-”

“Get those away!” Ja’far almost yelled.  It was too quiet to be a yell, but to urgent to be a whisper.

“What?”  Rurumu was dumbstruck.

“Get them away!”  Ja’far gasped out again, trying to curl inward on himself beneath the covers.  Rurumu didn’t move, so Sinbad stepped towards her and took the darts from her shaking hand.

“I-I don’t understand?”

“Rurumu,” Sinbad whispered, “I think you should go to your chambers and take a nice, long nap.  And that’s not a request.”

“I-I don’t…I don’t understand,” she repeated, but she stood.  He took her out of the room, and found a maid to help her to her room.  He stepped back into Ja’far’s room, but made sure to close the door this time.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked quietly.

True to form, Ja’far said nothing.

“I want to help you, Ja’far.  I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what the problem is.”

“Go away.”  He was still crying.  Sinbad felt a pang in his chest when he remembered his mother again.

“I’m going to sit here with you for a while if you don’t mind.”

“Just go away,” sobbed Ja’far, but there was no heat to it.

Sinbad sat with him in the dark, trying to figure out where his eyes and mouth and nose were under all those sheets.  He figured if he made Ja’far uncomfortable enough with the silence and the staring, maybe he’d start talking.  He wasn’t wrong.  It took about a minute and a half, but Ja’far slowly poked his head out from under the sheets to meet Sinbad’s eyes.

“Stop looking at me.”

“Not much else for me to do.”

“I told you to get out.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this.”

Ja’far flopped his head back onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

“So can you tell me why you’re refusing lessons?  Why you’re crying?”

“Because I’m going to fucking die, and-and…”

“And?”

“And…I’m afraid.”

Now Sinbad sighed.  He took a bit of a risk and put his hand on Ja’far’s head to ruffle his hair.  Ja’far shied away a little, but suddenly he started crying harder and Sinbad wondered if maybe he’d over stepped his bounds.

“Uh,” he stuttered. He lifted his hand off Ja’far’s hair.  “Sorry.”

“It’s-It’s fine,” Ja’far hiccupped.  “Is Rurumu okay?  She didn’t seem like herself.”  He rubbed at his eyes as if he could push the tears back into his eyes.  Poor kid, Sinbad thought to himself.

“She’s just tired.  She’s worried about you.  Everyone is.”

“She doesn’t need to be wor-”

“You can’t say that and act the way you just did with her.”  Sinbad watched as Ja’far bit his bottom lip and tugged on his hair.

“I-I couldn’t help it.  She wanted to give me the darts and I can’t…”

“You can’t what?  I thought you’d be excited to get those back.”

“I can’t have those right now.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“Ja’far,” Sinbad warned.  Ja’far started twirling his hair quicker and then stopped.  He glanced at Sinbad with what Sinbad could only describe as fear in his eyes.  Ja’far managed to pull himself into a sitting position, about a meter away from Sinbad.

“I’m afraid of what I might do.  If I had my weapons back.”

“What?  You’re afraid you’d attack someone?  You wouldn’t do that,” Sinbad tried to smile at him in the darkness, but it was so hard when Ja’far’s face twisted the way it did.

“I-I’m not afraid of hurting anyone else,” he gasped out.  At first Sinbad didn’t quite understand, but when he did, he felt the bed drop out from underneath him.

“What?”

“Muhammad and Sadiq k-killed themselves.”

Sinbad’s hands dug into the sheets.  He wanted to scream.  He wanted to set sail for Partevia and destroy Sham Lash and everyone associated.  Mostly he wanted to destroy Al Tharmen.  Ja’far had been a child.  Ja’far had been a _child_ when these things had been done to him.  Ja’far had done terrible things for the organization, most likely against his own will.

“I-I watched Sadiq.  I was afraid for him.  He kept provoking the adults and he’d cry all night, and I was so afraid he’d fall into depravity, but he just kept going until he couldn’t and he…” Ja’far’s hands were shaking as he lifted him to his temples.

“Ja’far?”

“During one of our beatings, he managed to get away and he stabbed the girl lashing him, and then he…he stabbed himself.  In the throat, and I-I-”

“Ja’far!”  Sinbad took Ja’far’s hands from where they were ripping out his own hair.  “You’re not there anymore.  We won’t give you anything that you could use to do that, alright?  I’ll talk to Rurumu.  In the meantime, I need you to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said.  His eyes were wide, almost pleading with Sinbad for something.

“It doesn’t matter.  It will make everyone feel a little better if you eat something.”

“You-you can’t tell Rurumu about what I just told you, okay?”  He averted his eyes and pulled his wrists out of Sinbad’s hands.  “I’ll eat if you promise not to tell her.”

“Alright.  I won’t tell her anything she doesn’t need to know.”

“Would you get the tray for me, please?”

“Here.”  Sinbad stood and retrieved the tray of pita from the dresser next to Ja’far’s bed and placed it in front of him.

“Thank you,” Ja’far almost whispered.  He took one of the loaves and nibbled on an edge.

“I have a lot of work to do Ja’far.  Will you be okay if I leave?”  Sinbad didn’t know how much more of tis he could take.  He was just so…angry.  He felt like maybe he understood what Ja’far meant when he said he didn’t know what he’d do if given a weapon.  Sinbad was just about ready to-

He stopped that train of thought immediately.  He focused on the strange war happening on Ja’far’s face.

“Could…Could you stay a little longer?” he asked in a low voice.  His shoulders were hunched uncomfortably.  “Because I don’t want you telling Rurumu I didn’t eat.  You need to be here so you can see it,” he covered lamely.  Sinbad could tell he was lonely.  Sinbad sighed, but let himself smile.  It was almost cute how little credit Ja’far gave him.

“Yeah, I can stay and make sure you eat.”

~  
The next morning, Sinbad gathered Yamuraiha, who had apparently slept for almost twenty hours straight, Rurumu, who had barely slept even after Sinbad sent her to go nap, and Vittel, who was going to serve as a sane, somewhat-outside party.  The whole group trudged to Ja’far’s room, since Sinbad had told them Ja’far probably wouldn’t have the energy or motivation to meet them in the Black Libra Tower.

There was a slight plunge in his stomach when he took the door handle.  He was a little afraid of what they’d all see inside.  Luckily, it was very similar to the scene he’d walked in on the day before.  Only this time, Ja’far poked his head out of the sheets in surprise.

“Good morning.  We’re here to check up on you,” Sinbad said with a grin.

“Good morning,” Rurumu and Vittel both repeated.  Yamu illuminated the room with a soft pink glow from the stone at the center of her staff.

“How are you today?” Sinbad asked.  Ja’far glared at them and burrowed back into his sheets.  “That’s no way to treat visitors, Ja’far.  We even brought you breakfast!”  Vittel placed the tray he’d carried from the kitchen on one of the bureaus near the door.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well then, I guess we can move on to Yamu then,” Sinbad sighed.  “Have you found anything worth reporting?”

She tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear, and palmed her staff uncomfortably.  “No.”

Sinbad had figured as much from her silence on their way to the room, but he wouldn’t lie.  He was disappointed.

“It’s just, there’s so little information on black Rukh!  I’ve amassed literally every resource available, and I’m no closer to figuring out how to pull that much out, or how to change it back to white Rukh and I’m so, so sorry Ja’far.”  Her voice was starting to crack dangerously near the end.  Sinbad put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright.  We’ll figure something out,” but he wasn’t nearly as confident as he sounded.  Vittel opened his mouth, but Rurumu accidently cut him off.

“Are you feeling up to your lessons today?  Kikiriku has missed you.”

Ja’far grumbled incoherently and rustled around in his sheets.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.”  Rurumu wasn’t doing too well either.  She’d been so relieved when she heard Sinbad had managed to get Ja’far to eat not one, not two, but _three_ whole loves of pita and drink a _whole_ cup of milk.  But now she looked almost as devastated as she had yesterday.  Sinbad could feel his own cheery façade starting to crumble at the edges.

Again, Vittel tried to speak, but was cut off, this time by Sinbad himself.  “We’ll have a maid com by every half hour like I had them do yesterday to check up on you.  Is there anything you’d like?  A book?  A quill?  An abbacus?”

No response.

“Ja’far…”

“I’m fine.  Thank you.”

Sinbad sighed and turned towards the door, followed by Rurumu and Yamu.

“Wait!  Wait, listen!” Vittel finally managed to get out.  “Why don’t you just do what you did for Mahad that one time?”

Everyone stopped and stared at Vittel.  Even Ja’far sat up in his bed to look at him.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“When we were in Valefore’s dungeon, and you saved us the first time, Mahad turned back into a monster and you saved him, didn’t you?  Why don’t you just do what you did then?”

Vittel was right.  He was right, but Sinbad bit his thumb as he tried to remember how exactly that had all played out.  It was all a bit of a blur to be honest.  He remembered somehow entering Mahad’s consciousness, but he couldn’t quite remember how.

“Would that even work?” he asked, turning to Yamraiha.

“I-I don’t know?  What did you do?”

“I don’t really remember, to be honest.”

“There was a lot of lightening, and then all of a sudden, Mahad and you were standing together like nothing had even happened,” Vittel tried to help.

“Well it had to be Baal, I didn’t have any other djinn then,” Sinbad thought out loud.  “Maybe I could talk to him, but he would probably wouldn’t help.”

Ja’far was staring at them all with narrowed eyes, like he didn’t want to get his hopes up.  He and Sinbad made eye contact for a lingering moment.  Sinbad swallowed, then spoke to Rurumu.  “Gather Hinahoho and Drakon in the lesser conference hall.  All of us are going to have a meeting to figure out what happened when I saved Mahad, and if it’s a viable solution to the problem we have now.  I’ll meet you all there in half an hour."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for this being almost like,,, two weeks late??? I've been super busy with moving, school, cosplay, and friends and stuff. That being said, I probably wont be updating anytime soon. I have a huge convention coming up and I have a lot on my plate. But!! I'm super excited because I get to be Ja'far! And I have a friend doing young Sin with me and we're gonna meme really hard ahhhh  
> So, yes, I am very very sorry about being so late and changing the update schedule, but I am a very busy man with too much to do and not enough time to do half of it in lmao,, I would say expect a new chapter sometime in late October. Thank you for sticking with me this long!

“Hinahoho, what do you remember from Valefor’s dungeon?”

“Aside from almost dying about six times?  Not much.”

“Fantastic,” Sinbad breathed out.

“I remember Valefor being difficult,” he said, scratching his hairline.  “And I remember Vittel and Mahad turning into that huge monster.  But the fight is kind of…”

“Yeah, me too,” Sinbad grunted.  The personnel he’d requested all sat around the long table in the lesser conference room.  Everyone was tense, he could feel it in their eyes on him and their fingertips trembling on the table.  He tried to calm himself down.  One of the first things Rashid had taught him was that the leader must be a symbol of strength.  He sucked in a deep breath.

Drakon cleared his throat.  “What I remember,” he said, “was how surprised and frankly terrified I was when you struck Mahad with a lightning bolt.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Hinahoho sat up in his chair.  “And you had your entire hand shoved in his chest.”

Sinbad rested his hands on the table.  He knew he’d used Baal.  He knew that Baal would have the answers.  He knew that.  But Baal wasn’t talking.  All he’d said when Sinbad had approached him before the conference was that, “The master will know how to use his servant.”  As precise as Baal’s lightning strikes were, he never gave a straight answer.

“Have you maybe tried fighting him?” Yamu drawled.  She was obviously still recovering from days without sleep, but Sinbad cringed when the others at the table began nodding in agreement.

“I can’t fight him right now.  It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant,” Yamu stammered.  “Have you thought about using your djinn equip near him?  There’s a lot of Rukh involved with djinn equips.”

Sinbad mulled this idea over.  “I think, perhaps, I had a partial djinn equip when I saved Mahad.”

“You’re right!”  Hinahoho was standing, a hopeful light in his eyes.  “You’re right! I remember!  I was so confused why your arm was blue, but there was so much going on that didn’t make sense that I just didn’t pay much attention.  You used your djinn equip to save Mahad!”

“But the question is how,” Rurumu reminded her husband.  “Do you remember what you did?  Did you _just_ strike Mahad with lightning?”

“No, there was…I saw parts of his past, and I had a conversation with him.”  Sinbad had tried desperately to forget what he’d seen in Mahad’s head.  Those memories weren’t exactly anything he thought anyone would want to remember.  That and it felt invasive for him to know those things about Mahad.

“How could you have had a conversation with him?” asked Vittel.

“It must have been with his Rukh, or with his mind or something.”

“You talked to his Rukh?” Yamu interrupted.  “You never told me you could do that!”

“Yamu, focus.”

“I _am_ focused!  Do you have any idea how helpful that could have been?  We could have just asked Ja’far’s Rukh how to fix him!  We could still-”

“I don’t remember how!  All I know is that I used Baal to somehow get inside his head, and then apparently struck him with lightning.”

“Well it’s at least a start,” she huffed.  “Come on, Your Majesty.  We can at least tell him we have a break through.”

“And give him hope we may not be able to deliver on?”

Yamu froze in her seat.  “I don’t think he’s capable of hope at this point, Your Majesty.”

The room was silent for a moment while everyone processed her words.  Sinbad hung his head, then nodded.

“Alright.  Alright.  We’ll tell him.  Just give me a moment.”  Part of him wanted to resent everyone at the table.  Again, they were all forcing him to be the savior.  He was going to take on the burden.  He was going to be responsible.  The other part of him was too tired to care anymore.  This was simply how things worked.  This was how he ruled.

He finally gathered all his thoughts up inside him and then decided not to think them anymore.  He did his best to put on a smile as he stood.  “Let’s go tell him.”

As Yamu had anticipated, Ja’far was less than impressed with their discovery.  He watched them with glassy eyes, sighed, and buried his face into his pillow.  Sinbad gave Yamu a look, telling her to leave them.  When she did, and the door slipped shut, Sinbad sat down on the bed.

“Ja’far, do you know what djinn equips are like?”  Sinbad sighed when he didn’t respond.  “They’re terrifying.  Not just to witness, but to use.  I’m lucky enough to be able to control all my djinn, but I need you to know that we have no plan.  Yamu thinks we have a chance, but I want to be honest with you.”

“Let me see it.”

“What?”

“Let me see your djinn equip.”

“Now isn’t really the time for that, Ja’far.  You’ll see it when I use it to save you.”

Ja’far looked up at him again with those big eyes of his.  Sinbad clenched his teeth.

“You said that you struck Mahad with a bolt of lightning.  Could you do that to me?”

“Ja’far!”

“No, listen,” he was so calm as he said it, “if you strike me with lightning and it works, I’m saved.  If you strike me with lightning and it doesn’t work, I’ll die.”  Sinbad looked for any sign of hesitance in Ja’far’s eyes, but couldn’t find it.  “I’m asking if you would have the courage to kill me, Sin,” the last syllable of Sinbad’s name died on Ja’far’s lips, so his tongue held onto the n for a moment longer than it should have.

“Are you always this persuasive when you’re demanding such awful things?”

“I’m so tired,” he sighed.  His eyes slipped closed.  “I’m just so tired.  I don’t think I could do it myself.  And I can feel my body failing.  Look.”  Ja’far pushed the covers off his shoulders with slow purpose.  The purple bruise from his back had spread over his shoulders and licked at the base of his neck now.  He reached out a hand to show Sinbad its new bluish gray color.

“I think it’s gotten into my lungs now too,” he whispered.  “Sometimes at night I can’t breathe.  Sometimes I can’t move.  I’m tired, Sin.”

“Get up.”

Ja’far glanced back up at him slowly.  Sinbad hated it.  Everything Ja’far did now was slow, like he had time.

“Get up.  We’re going to the courtyard.  I’ll show you Baal.”

Sinbad wanted to punch the idiotic grin off of Ja’far’s face.  It wasn’t fair.  He could feel that anger boiling up inside of him again.  He could feel it mixing with guilt.  Don’t think about it, he told himself.  Don’t think about it.

Yamu almost screamed when Sinbad exited the room.  Ja’far stumbled out behind him, holding his sheets around him.

“Where are you two going?”

“Sinbad’s going to kill me,” Ja’far told her simply.

“What!  No!  Wait!”  She stumbled after them.

“Yamu, stay here.  This is between Ja’far and myself.”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be fair to fight him right now!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Yamu stopped as they turned a corner and whined out after them, “Your Majesty!”

“We won’t have long before she tells the rest of them and someone tries to stop us.  Let’s hurry.”

Ja’far did his best to keep up with Sinbad’s long strides.  They arrived at the courtyard just in front of the Purple Leo Tower and turned to face one another.  It was still morning, but there were heavy clouds hanging in the sky, blocking the sun.  Sinbad wondered offhandedly if Ja’far would be alive for the coming rainy season.

“Stand here.”  Ja’far did as he was told.  Sinbad glanced at him as he walked a few paces away.  “You’re oddly compliant.  Much more honest too, I’ve noticed.”

“You’re about to kill me or save my life.  There’s not much more intimate than either of those,” Ja’far said back.  “There’s not point hiding anything from you now.  I’m too tired.”

“I can think of about thirty things more intimate than this,” Sinbad chuckled darkly.

“Was that a sex joke?”

Sinbad just smiled as he drew his sword.  “This is going to be terrifying for us both if it works.”

“I can think of about thirty things more terrify-”

“Quiet, Ja’far.”

Sinbad called the Rukh within and around him to obey him.  In a moment, he felt the power of the djinn well up inside him and he forced himself to take ahold of it.  He could hear Baal’s humming breath in the back of his mind.  He prayed that this would work.  He had many deaths on his hands, but he didn’t want anymore.  He raised his sword and quietly thanked the sky for being so cloudy.  The clouds rolled and gathered above them.

Ja’far was judging the change of apparel, Sinbad could tell.  He was used to people staring at him in general, but when in a djinn equip, it was natural for people to study him a little longer than usual.  But Ja’far stared through him.  It was unnerving.

“Are you going to do it?”

Ja’far hadn’t even finished the sentence, and Sinbad was lunging forward, swinging his word above his head.  The first strike of lightning hit a palm tree a few meters to Ja’far’s left.  Aside from a sharp breath, Ja’far did not react.  As if to encourage Sinbad on, a light drizzle began to fall, but it was obvious that in a few minutes there would be a downpour.  The second strike, at Sinbad’s hand, was closer, but still did not hit Ja’far.  He grit his teeth.  He couldn’t land a hit, and he knew exactly why.  Ja’far was a comrade now; he was a friend.  Sinbad didn’t want to do this.  Even with Baal peering through his eyes and expressing interest in the…fight, it was not something Sinbad wanted to do.  He gripped his sword tighter, took a few steps toward Ja’far and swung once more.  Ja’far’s hair stood on end, but the strike still missed.

Finally, Sinbad charged at Ja’far and grabbed a hold of his shoulder.  His purpled skin was cold, but before Sinbad could even look to see Ja’far’s reaction, a bolt of lightning finally found its way to them, and Sinbad was falling.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh hello and welcome back to hell things have been weird for me over the last month, but I have a lot more inspiration for this fic now, for literally no good reason but I'm very grateful??? Anyway, I promised a chapter in late October so here it is!! Also, I'm going to try and go back to updating every other Saturday, but please be understanding if I am late or just don't update,? I'm very sorry I can't always be on time, but I am pretty busy and this is really more of a fun thing for me to do than an obligation??? If that makes sense?? Any way, thank you for your understanding and enjoy some unnecessary angst <3

If Sinbad were completely honest, which was something he had noticed was happening less and less frequently, he wasn’t really sure what to expect when he fell into Ja’far’s Rukh.  He thought perhaps it would be dark, since he was sure Ja’far’s mind was cave-like.  But it wasn’t.  Strangely, Ja’far’s thoughts bounced around in an endless expanse of whiteness.  It was unnerving having thoughts passing over and through his body, especially when they weren’t his own, but Sinbad vaguely remembered this happening when he visited Mahad’s mind as well, only there were fewer thoughts.  And none of them held the same strange melancholy that featured so heavily in Ja’far’s.  Baal was beside him as he felt himself land.

“‘The master will know what to do with his servant,’ huh?” Sinbad mumbled.

‘Your servant still waits,’ Baal replied.

“Are these his memories?” Sinbad asked.  Flashes of thoughts turned into images.  Darts.  Hands reaching out.  Dead bodies.  Dead children.  Bloody hands.  Nothing.

‘There is much blood on this boy’s hands.  He is afraid of being saved.  Afraid there might not be any saving.  He will die if you fail this.’

Sinbad clenched his teeth and grumbled, “I already knew that.”  There was a noise behind them, so Sinbad turned to see a hunched figure.  “Ja’far,” he sighed.

He was crying, clawing at the skin on his neck, and wobbling in place.  He still wore the tattered rags he’d arrived in Sindria with.  Sinbad was about to approach him when another figure appeared, much to Sinbad’s confusion.  It was a child, but the boy’s messy gray hair left no doubt in Sinbad’s mind as to who it was.

“You piece of shit!” the child spat through the wrappings on his face.  “Stop crying!  You did this to yourself!”

“I-I didn’t…” Ja’far stuttered, “I never wanted this.”

“Well this is what you have!  This is what you deserve!  You think someone like you can ever escape this shit?  How many people have we killed?  Huh?”  The child grabbed Jafar by one of the wraps in Ja’far’s hair and pulled him down.  “How many kids did you fucking kill?  You don’t even remember, do you?  And our parents too!  What kind of sick human being kills their own mother?”

“I had to!” Ja’far wailed at himself.  “I had no choice!  I would have died!  They would have killed me!”

“And you think that wouldn’t have been better for everyone?  Huh?”  The child shook Ja’far by his hair.  “Fucking answer me, damn it!”

“I should!  I should be dead!”  The child let go of his hair with a push, and Ja’far fell back into a ball on the ground.  “I’ve had enough,” Sinbad just barely heard as the child stepped away from Ja’far.  “

Sinbad took a step forward.  Even knowing this was how Ja’far thought of himself, seeing it play out before him in no uncertain terms…Sinbad felt anger welling up in him, buttried desperately to separate it from himself.  Considering what Sinbad thought of Ja’far, that anger wasn’t exactly justified.

“Well, it won’t be long now,” the child said.  Sinbad thought he heard his voice crack a little near the end.  “The only thing worth doing now is falling and taking as many people out with you as you can.”

“I can’t do that!” Ja’far pleaded.  “These people are good to me!  Th-they like me!”

“You think they like you?” The child shrieked back.  Ah, yes, there was definitely a break in his voice this time.  Sinbad’s clenched his fists.  “Why the hell would they like you?  Even if they did like you,” he sneered, “how long do you think that’s going to last, huh?  You’ll kill them all eventually, just like everyone who’s ever cared about you!  It’s all we’re good for!”

“Ja’far,” Sinbad said as he stepped forward.  Both Ja’far and the child startled when they heard his voice.

“Sin,” Ja’far whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“Stay away from us!  Don’t fucking touch me!”  Sinbad reached out to them, and they leaned away from him.  When had he gotten so close?  Where was Baal?  When had Ja’far and the child begun crying?

“You don’t need to think of yourself like this anymore.”

“Don’t look at me,” Ja’far hissed.  Sinbad was almost surprised at the venom in his tone.  He leaned down a little more.  “How else am I supposed to think of myself?  I’m a failed killer!  I’m alone and worth nothing now.”

“You’re not worth nothing,” Sinbad huffed, more exasperated than anything else at this point.

“Fuck off!  You don’t know anything!  You have no idea what I’ve seen!” the child hissed.

“You’re right.  I have no idea what you’ve been through.  But keeping this to yourself can’t help you.”

“What good would it be to tell others?  I can’t…I can’t force them to-”

“When people care, you aren’t forcing them.”  Sinbad finally managed to put a hand on each of their shoulders.

The child began wiping his tears with the palm of his hand.  “There’s nowhere for us to belong.  No one wants a piece of trash like me.”  He tried pushing Sinbad away, but Sinbad held on tighter.

“How many times have I told you?  You belong here now.  We want you to stay, Ja’far.”

“You don’t,” Ja’far shuddered against Sinbad’s shoulder as Sinbad pulled them both closer.  “I’ll end up killing everyone.  You don’t want me.”

“You’ll believe me one day.  Now come home.”

“Home?”

Sinbad just nodded.  The child began to tremble against his other arm, then stilled.  He vanished, but Ja’far still clutched onto the front of Sinbad’s robes.

Sinbad blinked ones, twice, and then the empty white space of Ja’far’s mind was gone, replaced with the vibrant green of freshly soaked foliage.

Ja’far was still clutching onto him, but his long fingernails scrabbled over the scales of Baal’s djinn equip.  He let out a heavy sigh and then collapsed forward, even further into Sinbad’s chest.

“Ja’far!” someone called.  Yamuraiha was suddenly at Sinbad’s side, helping to support him.  Rurumu made quick work of their struggles by simply lifting Ja’far from under his armpits and then holding him like a baby in her arms.

“He still has a pulse.  Did you manage to get the metal vessel out?” Rurumu asked.  The others from the conference were just starting to hurry into the garden.

Sinbad realized we was holding something and looked down.  In his right hand was Baal’s sword, but in his left was a simple black dagger.

“Check his back,” Sinbad commanded.  Rurumu turned Ja’far over in her arms and peeled the linen sheets off his back.  Other than the large weeping gash at the center, there was no evidence of the metal vessel ever being there.  “Yamu, close that wound, would you?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”  There was barely even a scar left when she was done.

“Take him to his chambers while I figure out what to do with this,” Sinbad sighed.  He released his djinn equip and sheathed his sword.  Flipping the dagger in his hand, he inspected it.  Other than its light-swallowing blackness, it was unimpressive.  He sneered at it before hiding it in his robes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for being late!

****

The next two days were quiet.  In fact, Sinbad almost forgot that they were harboring an ex-assassin.  The next time Sinbad saw Ja’far, his newest citizen almost barreled head first into him, as he chased Kikiriku and the twins down the hall.  Sinbad just barely managed to look up from his scroll to see all four of them skid around a corner and dash towards him.  He almost didn’t have time to step aside as they charged down the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going, you little shits!” Ja’far called out after them.  Then they disappeared around another corner.

Sinbad was about to shake his head and continue towards his office to drop off the treaty scroll, but then he remembered who Ja’far was.  He threw the scroll and ran after them.  He found them not even a minute later, and had trouble understanding what he saw.  Kikirku, Karako, and Koraka were dancing around the bottom of one of the trees outside, and Ja’far was…strung up in its branches…laughing.  Ja’far was laughing.  It was such a foreign idea that Sinbad took a step back towards the porch he had followed them off of.

“We caught him, we caught him!” the kids sang from below him.  Kikiriku tried to climb the tree with limited success.

“Yeah, yeah, you got me this time,” Ja’far laughed, “But don’t think it’ll happen again!”  He lifted his head and met Sinbad’s eye.  His whole demeanor changed, and with a flick of his wrists, the red wires “trapping” him in the tree branches unraveled.  He landed on the ground next to the twins silently.

“What do you want?” he asked stoically.  The smile was gone, but Sinbad couldn’t help but think of it.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before.”

“I wouldn’t get used to it.”  Ja’far nervously rewrapped some of the wires around his forearms.

“So Rurumu gave those back to you, then?”  Ja’far gave him a blank stare.  “Ah, dumb question.”

“Is there something you wanted?”  The kids were running in between Ja’far’s legs and practically climbing all over him, but he didn’t even look down.  Sinbad finally noticed that Ja’far was wearing the tunic and pants of an apprentice accountant, complete with the ink-stained black and green apron.

“I haven’t seen you since we removed the metal vessel.  Excuse me if I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m fine, as you can see.  Is there any other reason for you to be here.  I’m sure you have other business to attend to.”

“No,” he lied, thinking of the scroll he’d thrown in his panic.  “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling better, and weren’t letting these three get you into too much trouble.”  He plucked Korako off Ja’far’s shoulder and held her to his chest.

Ja’far eyed him distrustfully.  “Well, we’re fine.  You can go.”

“But now I see how much fun you’re having, maybe I want to join in.”

“Ja’far,” Kikiriku whined, “He’s doing it again!”

“No he’s not,” Ja’far hissed back.  “He’s just being an intrusive ass.”

“You know, considering I’ve saved you twice now, you might want to be careful how you speak about me.”

“Well excuse me if I’m not exactly thrilled at the aspect of living in a country headed by an overbearing idiot.”

“I don’t know why I expected any differently of you,” Sinbad sighed.

“Why indeed.  Come on Korako.  Let’s go get you some lunch.”  Korako wriggled her way out of Sinbad’s arms and skipped after Ja’far and her siblings.  Sinbad was left alone with his teeth clenched.

“Ungrateful,” he finally muttered under his breath.  He turned on his heel and headed back towards his office.

~

“I don’t get it, Rurumu,” he sighed at her.  Despite her clucking and pursed lips, he wasn’t _that_ drunk.  Besides, it was almost five anyhow.  And he was king!  He could drink whenever he felt like it.  “I’ve been nothing but kind to him since he got here, but he won’t even pretend to be nice to me!”

“He’s probably embarrassed, Your Highness,” she said curtly.  “He’s not used to receiving help from others.  He was rather difficult to teach at first, because he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know things.”

“But every time I try to even talk to him, he tells me to go away!” Sinbad whined back.  Rurumu glanced down at the goblet in his hand, then back at the papers laying on her desk.  “Honestly, Your Highness, we haven’t even eaten dinner yet.”

“Why does he like you so much, but hate me?”

“I don’t know.  Have you asked him?”

“He won’t let me!”

“Hmm.  Well, Ja’far doesn’t talk much.  Perhaps he finds you annoying.”  The look of shock and horror on Sinbad’s face was almost comical, and Rurumu had to purse her lips harder to keep from laughing.

“I’m not annoying!”

“I apologize,” she wheezed.

“Are you laughing at me?” Rurumu felt her eyes watering at the betrayal in Sinbad’s voice.

“Let me put it this way, Your Highness.  Ja’far prefers not to mince words.  If there is no reason to speak, he doesn’t.  If you go to see him with no purpose, he will most likely dismiss you.”  She watched the drunken king’s brain swimming through her words.

“Oh.”  He crossed his arms over his side of her desk and laid his head down on them.  It reminded Rurumu of when he was much younger.  He used to assume the same position when she had tutored him years ago.  She reached out to ruffle his hair, but stopped herself.  He wasn’t a child anymore.  “That explains why he keeps asking if I have anything else to say.”

She smiled.  “I know that you’re used to winning over people with a smile and a few words, but that won’t work with him.  He’s much different than anyone else in Sindria.”

“Yeah,” Sinbad finished lamely.  As quick-witted as Sinbad was, when he was drunk, it was always obvious when he was trying to think through something.  She could practically see the king forming some kind of plan for making Ja’far like him.  She decided that probably would not work to his advantage.

“I wouldn’t be too worried about it, if I were you.  He’s working in the accounting sector.  You probably won’t see much of him aside from when he’s with the children.”  She strategically left out the fact that Ja’far had mentioned interest in Vittel’s sector a day or two ago.  Ja’far would probably flourish in parliament, but Sinbad didn’t need to worry about how close Ja’far could theoretically work to him right now.

“I’m still worried,” Sinbad sighed into his arms.  “I need people to like me.”

“I know you do, Your Highness.”  The one positive of Sinbad being drunk, Rurumu decided, was how honest he was.

As if reading her mind, he sat up and pouted, “I’m not that drunk.”

“I know, Your Highness.”  She opened a drawer and filed away the last of the East Quarter’s export invoices for the month.  “If you want to bother him-”

“I don’t want to bother him!  But he didn’t even thank me for saving him!  A ‘thank you’ would be nice…”

“Do you want me to mention it to him?”

“I don’t want it if you have to force him!”

“Your Highness-”

“I’m being difficult, I know.”  He huffed and blew his messy bangs out of his face.

“Try not to let it get to you, Your Majesty.  Not all people are meant to be close to one another.”

“But I saved him.  That should count for something.”

“Your Majesty, I believe that was the supper bell.  Do you need me to carry you out?”

“I told you I’m not _that_ drunk!”  He stood, glass in hand, rather abruptly, then swayed.  “Rurumu, I lied.  Help.”


	15. Chapter 15

There were several incidents of Sinbad coming in to bother Ja’far in the days following the incident involving the tree.  Almost once a day, the king would “drop by” his chambers or in the apprentices’ office.  It didn’t particularly bother Ja’far, but after the sixth visit, Ja’far felt his patience wearing thin.  He wasn’t rude.  He had seen the looks the other apprentices had given him when the king visited.  He knew that if he said even one slightly tarnished word, they’d avoid him more than they already did.  He was here to do his job, so it didn’t really matter to him too much, but Rurumu had made him promise to not insult anyone, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

So when Sinbad came in near the end of the day to ask how Ja’far was feeling, Ja’far immediately glared at him and quietly said, “I’m feeling much too busy to indulge your pointless attempts at conversation, thank you.”  And then he went back to work.  The King had then slunk out, which was fine with Ja’far.

Then as suddenly as the visits had started, they stopped.

Rurumu mentioned that Sinbad had gotten drunk and come to see her at work, and then the visits just…stopped.  Ja’far didn’t notice at first, not until one of the other apprentices mentioned it to him.

“Did you insult the king?” the young woman asked tentatively.

“I don’t believe so,” Ja’far responded.  He hadn’t acted any coarser than usual towards Sin.  And it wasn’t as if Ja’far had meant to insult him.  He was just busy and he didn’t understand the king’s strange obsession with distracting him.  It was frustrating.

“He hasn’t been about to visit you recently,” she sighed.  “That was the one good thing about having you here.  I mean-” she began trying to apologize and explain away the indiscretion at the same time and tripped over her words.  Ja’far simply shrugged and dipped his quill back in its ink.

“I suppose he hasn’t.  Is that unusual?”

“Well, he never really visited that often until you showed up, and he never visits in the mornings, when you’re not here.”

This time Ja’far sighed.  “Well, I can’t say I’m upset at his disappearance.  I’ve been given a task, and I want to complete it as quickly and accurately as possible.  He was only being a distraction.”

The woman almost rolled her eyes, but left his desk without another word.

And that was that.  For a very long while, the only time Ja’far saw Sin was at the nightly dinners among the generals and higher level officials and their families.

In fact, everyone in the apprentices’ office had finally stopped expecting the king when he showed back up.  At first, Ja’far had felt surprised walking in after lunch to find the king sitting at his desk making small talk with the small crowd of young accountants buzzing about him.  And then he felt the usual resignation and low simmer of annoyance that stupid face of his always brought.

A few of his fellow apprentices noticed him and shied away from the crowd, which caused some others to look up.  Within seconds, almost everyone had dispersed leaving Sinbad and Ja’far staring at one another.

“That’s my desk.”

“Yes it is.”

“Why are you here?”

“I brought you coffee.”

Ja’far hated how he could feel his posture change.  God he was so stupid.  Sure enough there was a small cup on his desk, right next to his ink pot and bag of pounce.  So stupid that a simple beverage could make him excited.

“You can have it,” Sin urged.

“Th-thank you, Sin,” he managed.  Some of the closer apprentices were watching, and Ja’far noticed some raise their eyebrows at the familiarity between them.

He picked it up and took a sniff, then sipped it just for a taste.  Ja’far managed to catch a glimpse of Sin’s eager expression over the rim before he tasted the coffee and almost snorted into it.

“You haven’t gotten any better at making coffee.”

“You can tell I made it?”

“Rurumu has made me some in the last few weeks.  Hers undeniably better.”

“Well, sorry I’m not Rurumu.”  There wasn’t any heat behind his words, Ja’far decided.  In fact, Sin’s tone was almost playful.  He narrowed his eyes.

“Why did you bring me coffee?”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Why are you sitting at my desk?”

“Do you see anywhere else for me to sit?”

“Then where am I supposed to work?”

“You can sit in-” Sinbad seemed to realize what he was saying and he cut himself off.  “I apologize.  What a terrible example I would set for the others if I didn’t allow you to do your work.”  He stood and made a motion for Ja’far to take his place.  When Ja’far was seated, Sinbad gave him a nod and headed towards the door.

“You’re leaving?”

“Well, I gave you your coffee, and you clearly want to get started on your work.”

“I see.  Thank you.”

It was at this moment that Ja’far noticed every single pair of eyes on him.  He shot as many of his fellow apprentices dirty looks as he could before they all began realizing the show was over.  And it was true; Ja’far did want to get started on his work.  The wine suppliers were asking for a budget increase, which apparently someone had botched, there were the grounds keepers and gardeners to appease, since their weekly pensions hadn’t gone through last week, and the Red Cancer Tower maids said they were running low on armor polish, which hadn’t been put in the budget for whatever reason.  Despite that desire to fix the mistakes and rectify the present issues, Ja’far sat in his seat, pen in hand staring at the cup at the edge of his desk for an extended moment.

That night at dinner, Ja’far mentioned that Sin had come to give him coffee after lunch, and Rurumu smiled softly.

“He thrives off of attention.”

“I’ve noticed.  He’s almost too charismatic.”

“I’ve often thought the same thing.  But if you can see that, perhaps you won’t let yourself get pulled in.”

“It’s too late to avoid that,” Ja’far sighed around a forkful of prawn.  “Everyone here is already wrapped up in his little dream of status quo.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hinahoho reprimanded.

“So you’ve been reading His Majesty’s policies then?”

“It was something to do.  As much as I love doing math equations from noon until five, it does get a little tedious.”

“You mean you finished them?” Rurumu sounded surprised.

“Well, yeah.  Yes,” he corrected himself.  Rurumu preferred it when he spoke formally to those older than him.

“I only gave those to you a few days ago.”

“I mean, I needed to have a dictionary out to read it.  I didn’t recognize a lot of the words.”

“There’s no shame in that, Ja’far.  If you’ve finished it, what are your opinions? I’m rather interested to hear what you think.”

“Well, it seems like even though Sin constantly talks about changing the world for the better, most of his policies, especially international policies, are just about maintaining the current balance of power.”

“You’re not wrong,” said Hinahoho.  “But don’t you think that’s a good thing?  If we maintain that balance of power, there are no wars to worry about.”

“There are always wars to worry about,” Ja’far muttered.  “The problem with simply maintaining the status quo is that it leaves no room for compromise.  If everything stays the same, no matter what, history will effectively end.”  Ja’far stuffed another prawn in his mouth and chewed quickly while Hinahoho tried to digest his words.  “Policy changes almost always come from conflict.  No change in policy means there’s no conflict, and that’s impossible for me to believe.”

“What are you trying to say?” Hinahoho asked, still slightly confused.

“Sin’s international policy might be well and good for now, but unless he can do some rather impressive political acrobatics, it must eventually fall apart.”

“The Seven Sea’s Alliance won’t fall apart!” Hinahoho laughed.

But Rurumu pursed her lips and nodded at Ja’far.  “I have thought the same thing many times.” Hinahoho coughed into his flagon and gave his wife a shocked frown.

“It’s a naive policy that assumes that none of the members will ever have a problem with any of the others; it assumes that all the nations will have the same reactions to the same situations which is improbable at best and impossible in reality.”  Ja’far pushed the leftover sauce around on his plate.  Kikiriku on his left tried to drop some of his salad onto Ja’far;s plate, but after a rather pointed look from Rurumu, he kept them to himself.  Ja’far wouldn’t have really minded, but Kikiriku needed the leaves more than he did.

“I’m very impressed, Ja’far.  Those are some very advanced thoughts on topics well above what I expected from you.  You must have contemplated that for a long time.”

Rurumu frowned when Ja’far shrugged in response.  It wasn’t that great, Ja’far told himself.  In fact he knew that if he had ever said something like about the king back in Sham Lash when it was still based in Partevia, his fellow assassins would have turned him over to one of their bosses for treason or killed him on the spot.

“I think you’ll do very well in parliament, should you decide to work there.”

“I suppose.”

“Those kinds of things go right over my head,” Hinahoho laughed.  “Leave family matters and civil planning to me, but international politics…” He blew out a long puff of air.  Rurumu patted him on the back.

“If you’d like, Ja’far, I can talk to Vittel about getting you transferred.”

Ja’far thought for a moment.  “Not yet please.  I want to do a little more research on it myself.  Plus I’m not even a real accountant yet.  I don’t even work the whole day in the apprentices’ office.”

“Well, you might be stuck there for a while,” she told him.  “There’s still a lot of things to teach you, and since your lessons are restricted to mornings now, it’s going to take a while.”

“I’m fine with that.  It will give me the time to do further research on the subject.”

“You sound like Yamu!” Hinahoho laughed.  He buried a hand in Ja’far’s hair and ruffled the untrimmed locks.  His hand was so heavy that Ja’far could feel his vertebrae sinking into one another and he groaned in protest.

“Leave him be,” Rurumu chided.  “I’m very proud of you Ja’far.”

Hinahoho’s hand left his head, and he could feel blood rushing to his cheeks.  He nodded in acknowledgment, and Rurumu seemed to understand he was too embarrassed to verbally accept the compliment since she didn’t press any further.  The dinner continued in its normal fashion.

Sinbad’s visits became unpredictable.  Sometimes he was there, sitting in Ja’far’s chair after lunch with a cup of coffee, but usually he was nowhere to be found.  Their interactions were perfunctory.  Simple, “How are you”s and “Thank you for your hard work”s, but Ja’far began to hate the disappointment that greeted him every time the king did not.  It was honestly foolish.  Sinbad was not someone he _needed_ to like, yet here he was carefully thinking over his feelings and deciding that perhaps…maybe…maybe he did like Sinbad.  As much as he could at least.  Sinbad had done a lot of Ja’far.  Regardless of how well Ja’far knew him, and he wasn’t about to fool himself into believing he knew the king that well, his presence had been beneficial to Ja’far.  So maybe he wasn’t someone worth hating any more.  To be honest, Ja’far was beginning to forget the reason he hated Sinbad in the first place.

It was a mostly normal day that day.  Sinbad hadn’t been there to supply Ja’far with coffee, so it was mostly quiet in the apprentices’ office.  In fact, for some reason, the day seemed to drag on and on for Ja’far.  He found himself waiting for the bell tower’s chimes, and made tallies in the margins of his books to track the hours.  It was a strange feeling, this boredom, but Ja’far was an _accountant_.  He was _supposed_ to count things.  The passing hours shouldn’t be any exception.  The final bell would be ringing out any moment now, he could practically feel it in his joints.  His ass ached from sitting so long and his fellow accountants had been giving him and his bouncing leg death glares all day.

Before the bell tower rang out to the palace, Sinbad came striding in through the doors nonchalantly as ever.  Ja’far was so listless that he actually looked up when the king entered.  He felt his face heating up when Sin made direct eye contact, smiled, then waltzed right up to his desk.

“Would you accompany me to dinner tonight?”

Ja’far nearly choked on his own spit right there.  “Th-the dinner bell hasn’t rung yet.”

“It’s about five minutes till,” Sin smiled.  “I figured we could get a head start to the great hall.”

“What for?”  Ja’far couldn’t help but be skeptical.  He still hadn’t forgiven Sin for making him enjoy his company.

“Well, Rurumu has mentioned that you had some thoughts on our international alliance system, and I’d like to hear your opinions.”

Ja’far could feel every pair of eyes on them.  He was starting to remember why he hated Sin so much.  “You can’t just-Sin!  I’m a freaking accountant!” he hissed.  “And an apprentice at that!  I have no business sticking my nose into such important matters!”  He hunched over and attempted to continue his work on the East Casino’s food inventory report, but as soon as he’d dipped his quill, Sin had swiped the scroll right off his desk.

“So you don’t want to tell me how wrong I am about international politics?” he teased.  Ja’far’s face was probably beet read at this point, and he tried valiantly to snatch the scroll back without causing a scene.  Rather, more of a scene than Sin had already made.

“You’re not wrong, per say,” he finally sighed, when it was obvious that Sin’s longer arms gave him the advantage.  “It’s just naïve, I think.”

“Then come on.  Tell me while we walk.”  Sin rolled the scroll up and dropped it the desk.  He turned on his heel and began slowly walking towards the door again.  Half the apprentices’ eyes followed after their king, but the other half were still trained on Ja’far.  He could hear some of them whispering.

Before he could think too much longer about it, he grumbled, stashed his ink and pounce in their drawer, cleared his desk and followed after Sin out the doors and into the brightly lit marble hallway.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late. Got caught up working on cosplay stuff yesterday. Also, I won't be updating for the next 2 weeks bc SinJa week starts on the 11th, so I'll be working drabbles for that instead of this. Anyway, this officially marks the beginning of the next story arc! I have 3 arcs planned, so i guess we're 1/3 of the way done? But I think this fic might end up running about 75k-100k? Maybe more? Don't know yet. ANyway here it is lmao

And so Sin began infiltrating his way into Ja’far’s day slowly.  It was usually once or twice a week, at the beginning or end of Ja’far’s shift.  And then it was three or four times a week.  Sin would come by with a cup of coffee or a new story for Ja’far to read on his off hours.

And then Sin began inviting Ja’far out for drinks with the rest of the eight generals.  The first time it happened was after an extremely important trade with Balbadd had been approved.  Sin and the rest of the generals had put a lot of effort making sure the documents had been perfect.  They’d worked on the proposal for months, and then when negotiations had begun, the palace had practically been in a tizzy trying to maintain its functions while accommodating Balbadd officials and the extra hours each general had to work.  Ja’far for his part, saw very little of the excitement, except that Rurumu, as the chief accountant, was unavailable for lessons in the morning.  Ja’far had finally taken on some morning shifts in the apprentices’ office, and found his coworkers just as tolerable as they were in the afternoons.

But this offer to come drinking with the king had been unexpected.  He had almost declined on principle.  While he was not exactly ignorant of how alcohol worked, he had no desire to indulge himself.  Alcohol was for people who could afford to have their senses dulled and their judgment impeded.  Personally, Ja’far had never had the comfort for that.  Alcohol was for the target, Sham Lash had taught him.

Ja’far agreed to go anyway, mainly because Rurumu encouraged him to. She had told him it would be a good idea to make friends with the other generals if he ever wanted to switch to parliament.  Plus, turning down an invitation from the king might make other workers in the palace feel as if Ja’far was ungrateful.

“You don’t have to drink,” she’d said.  “In fact, I wouldn’t if I were you.”

So Ja’far left the palace with Yamuraiha on his arm, already half way to being tipsy, and Sinbad pushing him along to follow the rest of the generals to their preferred drinking chamber.

“You let Sharkkan drink?” Ja’far asked as he passed through the doorway.  The chamber was richly decorated with throw pillows and gold tassels on almost every surface.  There was a pit set into the floor that was lined with plush couches along its rectangular edge.  Hinahoho and Parsine, the Artemyra official were already chatting below on one of the couches corner pieces.

“Sharkkan has the tolerance of a full grown man,” Sin grinned.

“How old is he?  He can’t be more than seventeen.”

“He’s fifteen.”

Ja’far could feel his eyes practically bugging out of his head.  “You let a fifteen year old drink three cups of wine with dinner?!”

“He’ll be sixteen in two weeks?” Sinbad shrugged.  “It’s not as if I had anyone to hold me back at that age, and I turned out just fine.”

Yamuraiha blew a raspberry at that.  “You turned out fine for someone who sucked up a whole lot uh stuff they shouldn’t have!” she drawled.

“And how old are you?” Ja’far accused.

Counting on her fingers, Yamu finally looked back up at Ja’far with a grin.  “Eighteen!”

“Young!  I thought you were closer to my age,” Ja’far sighed.  “You’re letting children poison themselves,” he added, directed at Sin.

“And how old would that be?”  Sin gently guided Yamu to sit, helping her down the stairs, then leaning her up against Masurur.  Best not tell Ja’far about _his_ age if he thought Sharkkan was too young.  Ja’far followed them and plopped himself down next to Sinbad when he finally sat.

“I’m around twenty, twenty-one,” Ja’far stated.  “I think.”

“You don’t know?”  Sinbad couldn’t help but just stare at him for a long moment.  Was he being serious?  When he finally decided that, yes, Ja’far was telling the truth, he had to pour himself a glass of wine.

“So Sham Lash didn’t bother to record you date of birth?  That seems like information they’d want to have.”

“Well, they do document the birth of every new assassin, it’s just…not many are born into it.”  Ja’far sighed again and sank back into the red cushion behind him.  He watched Sin take a long draught on his glass.  “And it’s not as if we celebrated birthdays, or even really kept track of that kind of thing.  Assassins measure time in kills, not months or years.”

“Are your trying to scare me?”

Ja’far only gave a slow blink in response.  “Let’s see,” he looked towards the ceiling as Sin took another gulp of wine.  “I was six when my parents…uh, and I was fourteen when Shaka got reassigned.  I stopped keeping track after I killed Barbarossa when I was fifteen.”

Sinbad nearly spat his drink out.  “You?!  You killed Barbarossa?  At fifteen?”

“I probably should have mentioned that earlier,” he said, pulling on a strand of hair.  “Yes.  Shaka ordered his assassination, and I was least likely to be noticed.”

Sin tried to reorder his thoughts, “Barbarossa died five years ago.  So you’d be twenty.”

“I thought you were my age,” Yamu mumbled.

“I just…look young.” Ja’far shifted uncomfortably against the cushion, and pulled his legs up underneath himself.

“The freckles don’t help,” Sin smirked into his glass.  Before Ja’far could open his mouth to make some snide comment about Sin’s own age, he continued, “So you killed Barbarossa, huh?  I don’t suppose you could tell us all how a fifteen year old managed to kill a dungeon capturer of his skill?”

“I almost killed you, didn’t I?  You’re about seven times more powerful, aren’t you?”  Ja’far lashed out.  Then he seemed to understand his tone and reconsidered.  “Apologies.  I don’t particularly want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Sin defended.

“Did you make Ja’far upset?” Yamu whined.  “Don’t make him sad, he’s always sad, don’t make it worse, Your Majesty!”

“You’re always sad?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“I saw it in your Rukh…”

“It’s not as though I wouldn’t believe it,” Sin mused.

“You haven’t seen my Rukh since Sin removed the metal vessel!”

“But I do have to wonder why you’d still be sad, now that you live here.”

Ja’far stopped being indignant for just long enough to give Sin a disbelieving look, then he shook his head and went back to twisting his hair.

“You always do that when you’re uncomfortable.  Why are you uncomfortable, Ja’far?”

“Maybe because I feel like I’m being interrogated?”

“Have a drink.  You’ll feel better.”

“I’d rather not, thank you.”

“You’re no fun!  Hinahoho, fill my cup would you?”

The night continued in a similar fashion.  Ja’far felt himself feeling more and more out of place as the generals and their king got louder and louder.  He was having trouble sitting still.  They were all just so loud and happy.  And Ja'far was tired.  In fact he was looking for an excuse to leave when Sharrkan began shouting at VIttel.  And then he'd hopped off his chair and pulled out his sword to attack.  Ja'far wasn’t sure what the two had been arguing about, but the moment that blade came out, Ja’far had Sharrkan wrapped up in his wires.  Vittel plastered himself against the couches in fear.  Almost everyone else was laughing, but Ja’far was barely containing his anger.

“Let them be!  They won’t kill each other!”

“Apologies, but I don’t trust drunk children with swords.”

With a flick of his wrists, Ja’far’s darts returned, and Sharrkan fell into a heap.  Vittel, for his part, still looked petrified, much to Drakon and Hinahoho’s amusement.  Ja’far stalked over to where Sharrkan had dropped his weapon and picked it up gingerly.

“If you all don’t mind, I think I’ll take my leave for now.”

“Oh, don’t go Ja’far!” Yamu pouted.  Masurur gave a curious glance between her and Ja’far, but said nothing.

“Don’t be a spoil sport!” Sin chided.

“If you’ve had enough, there’s nothing wrong with leaving,” hiccupped Parsine behind her hand.

“I’ll be taking this with me.”  And he left the room quickly.  He had heard Sin and Yamu getting up, but he ducked through the main hall and out into a connecting courtyard.  His room was still in the White Capricorn Tower, so luckily he didn’t have far to go before he reached safety.  He hid the sword under his bed, then undressed and slipped under the covers. 

He hadn’t thought of Barbarossa much in the last…five years.  And seeing Sharrkan, practically a child, holding a blade like that…

He covered his face with his hands.  He had known that escaping his past would be difficult, but he’d thought he would at least be able to keep it separate from his emotions.  He never used to feel this deeply, did he?  And he remembered that cold smile.  Shuddering, he pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders and tried to sleep.  It used to be a simple task to force himself to sleep at any time.  But now that he had a steady schedule, rising and sleeping at the same time every day, it was difficult.  He was usually up for another hour or so reading, but his thoughts were whirring too much for that.  But that just meant they were whirring too much for him to sleep too.

Instead he just kept replaying the kill in his head.  Over and over, he felt the knife slip and bite into his palm.  His body slide down the sewer shoot.  The taste of iron in his mouth.

He shouldn’t have brought it up.  He wanted to blame Yamu or Sin, but this was his own fault.  He hadn’t been thinking.  He hadn’t thought he’d have to relive it like this.  And it pissed him off that the reaction was so delayed.  Why hadn’t this been an issue when he’d brought it up?  Granted he had been uncomfortable, but now he kept seeing Barbarossa’s eyes and hearing his choking laughs as Ja’far slid the razor across his throat.

And just like that, Ja’far was out of his bed, pacing his room.

He wanted to see Rurumu, but he still hadn’t been given access to the Purple Leo Tower.  He glanced over at his desk.  He’d brought some scrolls back with him the other day to get a head start on his work for next week.  He walked over and sat himself in the seat, then struck a match to light the lamp that hung above him.

There were some statements from the wheat producers to the south that needed reconciling with their budgets from last year.  And some port workers suspected their manager of fraud, so they’d submitted a request for a little investigation.  Ja’far felt his hands twitch at the thought of completing them.  He’d always liked feeling productive.  He’d always enjoyed finishing his work and starting on the next thing.  He picked up his quill and began running the numbers.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm introducing a bit of a headcanon in this chapter, and I'm aware that it might not be popular, but it fits really well with the themes in this story, and I'm a bit of a sucker for representation so sue me I guess. Also, Happy Holidays, sacred or secular, stay safe and eat a lot!!

Sinbad needed to find Ja’far as soon as possible.  He probably could have delegated the task to someone else, but that would take too long.  He walked quickly down the halls of the White Capricorn Tower.  He knew Ja’far’s room was two hallways from the maids’ chambers, so he knew where he was going, but people kept sidetracking him with “Good morning, Your Majesty”s and “My King, could I borrow you for a moment”s.  He should probably make himself more available to his civil officers in the morning.

When he finally got to Ja’far’s room, he knocked.  When there was no answer, he knocked again, announcing his presence through the door.

“Ja’far, it’s Sinbad.  I’m coming in.”  And he opened the door.  One glance told him there was no one in the room.  So where would Ja’far be?  The library, probably, he decided.  He still had morning lessons with Rurumu, so maybe he’d gotten a head start.

“No, he hasn’t shown up for lessons yet,” Rurumu answered when Sinbad found her among the stacks.  “It’s too early for that anyway.  He wasn’t in his room?”

“No.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about moving him closer to Hina and me in the Purple Leo Tower.”

“I’ve been trying to get Yamu to give him clearance, but she’s been busy working on the national barrier.”

“Oh wonderful.  How did last night go?”

“That’s actually why I’m looking for him. Sharrkan is having a bit of a rough time.”

“Ja’far didn’t hurt him, did he?”

“Oh, no.  Not physically.” 

“What did he do?”

“If you don’t mind Rurumu, I’d kind of like to find him?  I can tell you about it once it’s all settled.”  He raced out before she could answer.  Sharrkan had practically burst into Sin’s room that morning looking for his sword, claiming that Sin had taken it.  When Sin had explained that it wasn’t him this time, that Ja’far had taken it, Sharkkan had almost looked scared.  Then he’d began yelling at Sinbad to go and get it back.

And Sinbad had some questions for Ja’far.

So finding him as quickly as possible was the best idea.  He wasn’t in his room, and he wasn’t in the library and the only other place Sin could think of was the apprentices’ office.  So he headed back that way.

He stepped through the door into the office.  It was empty except for one small form hunched over his desk.  Ja’far’s desk.  Ja’far was scratching away furiously at a scroll.  He looked up when he heard Sin’s footsteps across the room.

“What are you doing here so early?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Ja’far.”

“I just had a lot of work to catch up on, so I figured I’d get some done before my lessons.”

“Just last night you were bragging about having finished everything assigned for the day.”

“I was wrong.”

“Are you sure?  You look tired.”

“No I don’t.”

“You’ve been here all night haven’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re a good liar, but…” he pointed to the ridiculous pile of scrolls on the floor, obviously finished, versus the last three Ja’far had been working on.  Ja’far let out a frustrated breath.

“I couldn’t sleep.  I was thinking too hard.”

“What about?”

“Nothing you need to know about.  Why are you here?”

Ah, and they were back to the beginning again weren’t they.  Sinbad pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sharrkan will probably worry himself blue in the face if he doesn’t get his sword back within the hour.  Where is it?”

“Under my bed.”

“Could you go and give it back to him?  And apologize?  You hurt his pride.”

“I’ll do it after lunch.”

“He needs it now.”

“Why?”

“It’s…sort of like a security blanket for him.  It’s a memento from his late father.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll do that now then.”  He stood just fine, to Sinbad’s surprise.  He hadn’t slept and he probably hadn’t eaten since dinner last night, but he seemed completely fine.  Sinbad had lied earlier when he said Ja’far looked tired.  In fact Ja’far looked just as blank-faced as he always did.  No bags under his eyes, no tremor in his hand, just regular, stoic Ja’far.  It was almost inhuman.

“He’ll probably try to fight you.”

“He can try.”

“He’s pretty good, despite his age.”

“I’m sure he is.”  Ja’far brushed past Sinbad towards the door.

“Come see me after you’ve beaten him.  I still want to talk to you about last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.  I can’t be late to my lessons.”

“Ignoring your king again?”

Ja’far only stopped at the oak doors raised an eyebrow at him in response.  Then he slipped out the door and disappeared.  Sinbad hated that.  He hated that Ja’far still evaded him, and refused him as a king.  It was just irritating!

Grumbling, he exited the room and headed towards the main hall for breakfast.

Ja’far had stopped by his room to retrieve the sword, which now that he looked at it closer, was very expensive-looking and intricate.  He ran a finger down the sharp edge as he walked.  It was well taken care of, if the drop of blood on his finger was any indication.

He didn’t know Sharrkan as well as he knew Hinahoho or Yamu, but he knew he’d find him somewhere in the Silver Scorpio Tower, considering that’s where he spent most of his time.  Sure enough, Ja’far found him fighting against a wooden training dummy with a short sword.  He stopped mid thrust to look at Ja’far.  They stood in silence for an uncomfortable moment.

“I, uh, have your sword.”

“I know.”

“I’d like to apologize for causing you distress.  That was not my intention.”  He handed the sword to Sharrkan, who snatched it from him angrily.

“Sinbad’s usually the one to take it.”

“Sounds like he’s responsible enough to be king after all.”  He bowed.  “Now that you have your sword back, I will take my leave.”

“I’m not done yet!  You hurt my pride as a swordsman last night.”

Ja’far sighed.  He didn’t want to fight a child, regardless of how talented a fighter that child might be.  “Are you challenging me to a duel?”

Sharrkan gaped, then angrily nodded.  “I deserve a chance to restore my honor.”

“I think you’ll find honor is overrated.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that from an assassin,” he spat.

He should have expected that, but it still made his breath catch in his throat.  One part of him wanted to ignore it, seal it away and leave without a word, but the other part of him said that if this child thought he could insult Ja’far like that and walk away unscathed, he was very, very wrong.

“Fine.  Let’s duel then.”  Ja’far flicked his wrists and took hold of his darts as they fell into his hands.

“You’re underestimating me!” Sharrkan yelled as he drew his sword upwards.

“I wouldn’t dare.” And Ja’far simply side-stepped.  The fight only lasted a few more moments after that, in a very similar fashion.  Sharrkan would come at Ja’far in a straightforward manner, and Ja’far would dodge.  Finally, Ja’far grew tired of stepping out of the way, so he threw his darts out to imbed in the wooden beams behind Sharrkan.  Sharrkan managed to duck them, so he didn’t lose his head, but he didn’t have to foresight to anticipate Ja’far’s real strategy.  It was simple, really.  His darts could deal damage, of course, but Ja’far’s wires were much more dangerous in a battle, something Sharkkan learned very quickly.  As he continued stepping and stabbing towards Ja’far, and Ja’far stepped out of the way, the wires began crisscrossing and wrapping Sharrkan up, immobilizing him.  Once Sharrkan could do little more than wiggle his arm, Ja’far approached him.

“This isn’t fair!  My sword isn’t suited to this kind of combat!”

“No, you simply lack subtlety.  Your attacks are predictable.”

“I want a rematch!”

Ja’far gave him a chop to the head, the way Rurumu always disciplined him.  “I only agreed to duel you because you insulted me.  I’m no longer interested.  Until you can move without giving away your strategy I won’t battle you again.”

Sharkkan was fuming, but his voice wavered.  “Dammit!  Dammit!!  I should be your superior!”

“And how do you figure that?  I’m much older than you and almost twice your size.  This battle was clearly to my advantage.”

“No!  Not just that!  I’ve been here for years!  I should be your superior!  But you’re an apprentice and you have His Majesty’s favor and—

“You’re not making sense.”

“I don’t get any responsibility!  You have Rurumu and His Majesty’s favor!  I can barely get five minutes with either on a good day!”

“You’re…jealous of me?”

“No!” he yelled too quickly.

“Why on earth should you be jealous of me?  You know what I am, and you’re jealous?”

“I-I’m not jealous!  It’s just not fair!”  Ja’far gave him a skeptical look.  With a gentle tug and some quick arm movements, Ja’far pulled his darts out of the wall, and Sharrkan fell to the ground.  He didn’t make any move to stand, and instead began rubbing his eyes, trying desperately not to cry.  Ja’far shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“You’re right, it’s not.  If it makes you feel better, I don’t understand it either.”

“You don’t…?”

“I don’t understand why the people here seem to insist upon being kind to me.  I tried to kill Sin.  I almost succeeded too.  I was literally two seconds from killing him.  I don’t know why they decided to keep me alive.  I don’t know why they decided I was worth enough to keep around.”  Ja’far took a few steps backwards and let himself sink to the floor when his back hit the wall.  Sharrkan looked at him through teary eyes.

“His Majesty never shuts up about you, you know.  It pisses me off.”

“I can’t control what Sin does.”

“Why do you get to call him ‘Sin’, huh?  No one else gets to do that.”

“I don’t know.  I never called him by his title, and ‘Sin’ seemed better than ‘asshole.’”

Sharrkan actually chuckled a little. 

They stared at one another for a few silent moments. 

“I don’t like you.”

“You don’t say?” Ja’far smiled a little.

“It’s just not fair.  I want you to leave.”  Sharrkan’s face was serious but Ja’far couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’d love to, but again, Sin and Rurumu seem intent to keep me.  I wanted to leave as soon as the vessel was pulled out.  Go be a fisher.  Or maybe a soldier.”

“Assassins make terrible soldiers.”

“Says who?”

“Drakon.”

“Hmm.  I’m sure he’d know.  Vittel doesn’t seem too suited for close combat.”

“He’s not suited for any kind of combat anymore with those arms of his.”

Ja’far perked up a little.  “What do you mean?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, if you wanna know, you can ask him yourself.”

With a sigh, Ja’far let his head drop back and thump lightly on the wooden wall.  There wasn’t much else to say, and Sharrkan clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk to him.  Ja’far didn’t really want to leave with one of Sinbad’s closest friends upset with him, but he didn’t really see a way to make this stubborn child _not_ hate him.  He was about to get up and leave when Sharrkan spoke again.

“Y-you’re a boy, right?”

“I believe so.”

“Like, you have…things down there, right?”

Ja’far gave him a confused glare, scrunching up his nose at the question.  “That’s none of your business,” he sneered, “but yes.  I have _things_ down there.”  His tone softened when Sharrkan almost looked…disappointed.  “Why do you ask?”

He grimaced at the question.  “I just thought, maybe, maybe you were like me?”

“Like you?”

“I’m a boy, but I don’t have things down there.  I’m not…”

“Oh.  There was an assassin girl like you in Sham Lash.”

“Really?”  Ja’far could use this.  He knew it was manipulative, but if it would make this boy feel better and make him tolerate Ja’far, he’d do it.

“I don’t remember her name, but she had _things_ down there.  She died young.”

“Oh,” his tone dropped.  “A-are you sure you have thi-”

“I’m sure.  Why do you keep pressing on that issue?”

“You’re just…you’re pretty, and you’re voice is soft.  I thought maybe…”

Ja’far sighed.  “I suppose that’s fair.  Unfortunately, we’re different in this regard.”  They were quiet again, and Ja’far was trying to find a way to keep Sharrkan interested.

“You know the girl was good at what she did.  She didn’t die on a mission.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, I guess not.”

“…How did she die?”

“Attacked off mission by idiots who thought there was something wrong with her.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” He sounded angry now.

“No.  But I see you are aware of people like that.  People that want you dead?”

He swallowed thickly.  “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky you have Sin.  That girl might have lived a few more years if she’d had someone as powerful as him looking out for her.”  Again, Sharrkan was quiet.  When he finally spoke, his response made Ja’far sit up straight.

“Sinbad doesn’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I never told him.”

“Who _have_ you told?” Ja’far watched him fiddle with the end of his robes.  “No one?”

“Just you.  Everyone else thinks I’m normal.”

“You are normal.”

“You know what I mean!” he shouted.  “They think I’m a boy like every other boy!  But I’m not and I don’t want them to find out!”

“You’re fifteen aren’t you, Sharrkan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you afraid of puberty?  It’s not all together pleasant, but I’m sure you can’t be looking forward to it.”

Sharrkan’s frown deepened.  “I’m not afraid of anything!”

“Hmm.  I used to think I wasn’t afraid of things either.  Turns out to be quite the opposite, actually.”

“Well, I guess you’re not as strong as you thought then, huh?”

“I guess not.”  Ja’far traced the edges of his darts gently, not enough to slice his fingers, but enough to feel just how sharp they were.  “You should tell Sin.  Or possibly Yamu.  She might have some magical way of making this easier for you.”

“I’m not gonna tell that seashell bitch nothing!” he scrunched his face up in disgust.  “She’ll just make fun of me.”

“She might.  But she might also be able to help.  Maybe both.”

“Maybe,” he drawled out.  Ja’far watched as Sharrkan tried to think it through.  “You can’t tell them.”

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

“I still don’t like you.”

“That’s fair.  I wouldn’t like someone who’d thoroughly thrashed my ass either.”

“It wasn’t _thorough_!” protested Sharrkan.  He made a rude gesture at Ja’far, which Ja’far returned.

“Well,” Ja’far said as he stood, “you have your sword, you have your thrashing.”  He had to hide a smile when Sharrkan stuck his tongue out.  “And I have work to get back to.  Have a good day, Sharrkan.”

“Fuck off Ja’far.”

So Ja’far did just that.  He headed back to the apprentices’ office to send off the parchments he’d finished last night.  He glanced at the few left on his desk and rolled his eyes.  Sin said to come see him after talking to Sharrkan, but there was still work to be done at his desk.  He decided to finish the accounts first, then see Sin.  It wasn’t like there was anyone else in the office yet to tattle on him anyway.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so late! The first week of classes is always a little hectic and I am very busy with reading assignments already. :(((
> 
> Speaking of which, I'm going to be taking a short hiatus on this story in order to focus on a joint fic I have in the works with a friend, as well as on cosplay (If you're going to Katsu Con hit me up!!) and school work. Do not worry though I am still very much in love with this AU and I have about 7k written past what I have posted here, I'm just very busy! So I'll probably update around Feb. 25th. That's what I'm gonna aim for.

He was so caught up in the last scroll he almost didn’t hear the breakfast bell.  He cursed under his breath and rushed to finish his calculations.  Then he was off to the main banquet hall.

“Where’ve you been Ja’far?” Rurumu asked when he sat down in his usual place at their table.  “His Majesty was looking for you pretty frantically earlier.”  She ladled some orange mush into the youngest one’s, Hiriha’s, mouth.

“Ja’far took Sharrkan’s sword last night!” Hinahoho laughed.  “He was practically spitting like a cat after you left!”

“Oh my,” Rurumu sighed.  “I probably should have warned you about that.  His Majesty and I are usually the ones to take it if he starts getting rowdy.”

“It was fine.  He’s got it back now.”

“He didn’t try to fight you, did he?”

“We fought.” It was obvious Rurumu was trying to school her concern, so he sighed and continued.  “I didn’t hurt him.  Just showed him how much more work he’s going to need if he wants to fight an adult.”

“I almost wish you hadn’t,” she frowned.  “He already spends enough time in the Silver Scorpio Tower as it is.  It’s a pain getting him to his apprenticeship.”

“I thought he was a general?”

“Oh no, he’s much too young to be a general.”

“Th-then who are the generals?”  Ja’far had been under the impression that if they were invited to drink with the king, they were generals, but considering _he_ had been invited, he probably should have assumed that wasn’t the case.

“I’m one,” said Hinahoho.  “I’m in charge of civil planning and family matters.”

“Vittel is the head of parliament,” added Rurumu.  “I’m the head of accounting, Yamu is in charge of education and research.  Drakon is obviously in charge of the military.  Serendine is the head of health and sanitation.  Parsine is a diplomatic figurehead in charge of trade with Artemyra.  And Felix is in a similar situation with Sasan.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Felix.  He’s the diplomat from Sasan.  He’s hard to catch.”

“He’s always holed up in his room praying,” Hinahoho scratched the back of his head.  “Hey, Kikiriku!  I see you pouring your milk into your sister’s cup.”

“What’s he praying for?”

Rurumu just shrugged in response.

“So what about Sharkkan and Masurur?  They were drinking with us, but they aren’t generals?”

“They will be eventually.  Sharrkan is supposed to be in charge of the pleasure district and tourism once he’s old enough, and Masurur is supposed to be shadowing the head of agriculture, but they both like to sneak off and focus on their fighting skills.”

“Oh.”

“Eventually we’ll have ten generals!” Hinahoho grinned.

“If those two can learn some diligence,” Rurumu muttered.  “So you took his sword.  I’m assuming he went to His Majesty to get it?”

“Yes, and Sin came to find me so I went to find Sharrkan.  He said I’d damaged his honor, so we had to duel.”

“Typical,” Hinahoho nodded along.

“It wasn’t a fair fight.  Probably about two minutes long.  I didn’t draw blood, just strung him up a bit.”  He kind of hated the way Rurumu’s shoulders relaxed when he said that, but he couldn’t really fault her for it.  He was a born killer after all.  Wouldn’t be too out of character for him to just kill the kid, would it?

“He’s so brash,” she breathed with a shake of her head.

“His technique is flawless.  He’s just predictable still.  He’ll get better as he ages.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.  He can’t just go around challenging people almost twice his height and weight to duels.  He’s going to get himself killed.  Not everyone is as kind as you are, Ja’far.”

Ja’far almost wanted to laugh at that.  Instead he pushed the plum slices on his plate around absently.  Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought I told you to come see me after you spoke with Sharrkan.”

“Your Majesty,” Rurumu and Hinahoho bowed their heads.

“I never agreed to that, if I remember correctly.”

“Your king gave you an order and you deliberately ignore it.  How will we deal with such a willful accountant?”

“Give it time, Your Highness,” Rurumu smiled.  Ja’far ignored both of them in favor of stuffing his mouth.

“Eat slower, Ja’far,” Hinahoho reminded him.  “That’s why you’re so short,” he teased.

“I’m not short, everyone here is just freakishly huge.”

“Kikiriku is only nine and he’s almost your height.”

“What did I just say?”  Honestly, as much as he didn’t hate Hinahoho, the man seemed to have a hard time listening.

“You’ll come to my office after breakfast.  I can accompany you if you decide to forget again.”

“Can I ask Your Royal Highness the reason for this visit?” Ja’far mocked.  Sin’s eyebrows rose at the formality.

“I have questions that I feel we’d lot be more comfortable discussing alone.”

“If you say so.  I’ve already given you all the information on Al Tharmen I have.”

“It’s not about Al Tharmen.”

“Fine.  I will see you after breakfast.”

Sin squeezed his shoulder and left them.  Ja’far went back to stabbing the fruit on his plate and ignoring everyone at the table.

And Ja’far found himself sitting across from Sin half an hour later, fidgeting with the wires wrapped around his arms.  Sin’s office was almost immaculately clean, with just his desk, a few chairs on each side and potted plants in each corner of the room, but the desk itself was an absolute mess.  There were scrolls piled up and strewn haphazardly in heaps, and no sense of which were to be looked over and which were to be sent out.  Ja’far cringed inwardly at the sheer number of used quills scattered among the papers.

Ja’far was not all that excited to be missing out on his already limited time with Rurumu, but he didn’t know what to say or why Sin even wanted him here.  As it was, he was sifting through drawers, looking for something, and every once in a while, looking up to regard Ja’far studiously.

“Last night, you said some things,” Sin finally said.

“We all said some things last night.”

“You in particular said some things that I am interested in.”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Barbarossa’s assassination?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not something you need to know about.”

“Actually, it is.  No one knows why he suddenly dropped off the face of the earth.  Except for maybe you do.”

Ja’far crossed his legs and glanced at the leafy plant to Sin’s left.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Letting out a long breath, Sin closed his eyes.  “I know this is probably really hard for you Ja’far, since you still don’t consider me your king.  And I’m assuming you don’t see Sindria as your home.”  Ja’far clenched his teeth.  “As king, I need to know what is going on in other countries so that I can better equip my own.”

“For war?”

“For trade.  For refugees.  For day-to-day life.”

They watched each other over the desk silently again.  Sin grimaced and pulled on his collar.

“I think you have information that could help us understand Partevia better, which we’ve been struggling with since Sindria’s founding.  Please Ja’far.”  The look he gave over the table was so pitiful, Ja’far could literally feel his self-preservation melting away into the air.

“Fine.  But I can’t guarantee how much this will actually help you.  And I want the rest of the day off.  And if you interrupt me with so much as a word, I stop.”

“Done.”

Ja’far hated how quickly he’d agreed to share this information, but he hated Sinbad’s ridiculous smile even more.

“When I was growing up, the head assassin of Sham Lash was Shaka.  He was in charge of everything from assignments to food rations to medical assessments and experiments.  He was a nasty man, and no one liked him.  Sometime after Vittel and Mahad disappeared with you, Barbarossa reassigned him to serve the Heavenly Generals.  He was still technically in charge of Sham Lash, but he delegated more to the older assassins.  That went on until I was fifteen.  Turns out Barbarossa was an even bigger bastard than Shaka.  He’d abolished the monarchy, made people’s lives better, but he was a mass murderer.

“He’d been rounding up immigrants, disabled people, migrant workers, anyone who didn’t quite fit his ideal, and having them killed.  So Shaka had me kill him.  Shaka took over his position without much fanfare, and most citizens didn’t even realize Barbarossa was dead until Shaka died.”

“I-is that it?”

“Yes.”  Ja’far could tell Sin was frustrated; he wanted more detail, but Ja’far didn’t know if he could give Sin what he wanted without breaking down.  Thoughts from last night were already creeping back in.  He thought he saw a flash of Barbarossa’s cold smile on Sin’s lips.

“There’s nothing else?  How did the Independent Nationalist Party maintain control?  That was Barbarossa’s faction wasn’t it?”

“Shaka didn’t change much.  He just stopped the killings.  The general public never realized the Party fell out of power.”

“But when _did_ Shaka fall from power?  You said he’s dead now.  What happened to him?”

Ja’far began twirling his hair around his index finger.  “I killed him too.”

“You killed him?  Why?  How?”

“The Party wanted power again.  They wanted revenge for having Barbarossa killed.”

“And when was this?”

“Shaka was only in power for maybe a year or so.  I don’t really know.  I stopped keeping track of time around then.”

“And you, a sixteen or seventeen year old, killed the leader of your own league of assassins?”

“I told you, Shaka wasn’t really involved in the decision making anymore.  We got a job, and I was the most capable.”

“At seventeen, you were the most capable?”

“You seem to be over estimating an assassin’s life expectancy.  At seventeen or however old I was, I was one of the oldest assassins there, and part of the council Shaka had delegated power to.”

“How’d you manage to kill him?  I need to know methods.”

“Shaka was getting old and out of practice.  It wasn’t hard to dispatch him with a well-aimed stab.”

“And Barbarossa?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You did this last night.  Ja’far, what happened?”

“It’s none of your business, and it won’t help you run your country, so I suggest you stop asking before I decide to make good on my original assignment here.”

“Are you threatening me?  Your king?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, and no, you’re not my king.”

Sinbad’s face dropped, and for a moment, Ja’far thought he might actually cry.  But as soon as the expression registered, it disappeared, replaced with a completely neutral mask.

“I see.  Well.  This talk has been enlightening in more ways than one.  I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can trust me with this information.  If you change your mind, feel free to include me in your life.” He picked up a few sheets of paper and began shuffling.  When Ja’far didn’t move right away, he glanced up and said, “You’re free to go.  Enjoy your day off.”

Ja’far tried not to slam the office door on his way out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next chapter of this hot mess!! I'll be on spring break soon, so expect an update on the 11th of March! We are approaching the end of Act I pretty quickly, and I'll unfortunately probably be taking another long break to get ready for Act II. That being said, the shippy stuff will start getting more obvious!!
> 
> Anyway, if you're into Yuuri on Ice and are stil hungry for my writing (lmao yeah right) I have a pretty long YOI fic in the works, so you could always check that out?? If you're interested. Anyway, enjoy these two idiots attempting to communicate with each other.

“Hinahohoooo,” Sinbad whined.  “Hinaho-hooooo!”

“Your Majesty, why are you drinking so early today?”

“Hinahoho, your son is being difficult again…”

“What did Kiki do?”

“Not Kikiriku, Ja’far,” Sinbad moped.  He was swaying in front of Hinahoho’s desk, and to be honest, Hinahoho was not particularly in the mood to deal with his king.

“Ah, the oldest.  Well, there’s not much I can do for you, Your Majesty.  He’s an adult.  If you have a problem with him, you need to take it up with him.”

“I tried to!”

“Did you piss him off again, Your Majesty?”

“No!  Yes!”  He slammed his hands on the desk, for support.  “I don’t know!”

“Knowing you two, you probably pissed him off.”

“I was just asking questions about, um, politics?”

“He’s got quite a few opinions.  What exactly did you ask him?”

“He said he killed Barber…bar-bar-issa.  Bar-bar-toasta.”

“Barbarossa.”

“Yes.”

Hinahoho closed his eyes, pressed a hand to his eyes, and sighed heavily.  “What did you ask?”  It’s not like he had any work to do or anything.

“How?  How’d a kid like him, a kid!  Kill a dungin’ capturer like him?”

“Your Majesty, I took him hunting a few weeks ago, and I would not be surprised to hear that he’d killed _you_.  He’s terrifyingly precise.”

“He can’t anymore!  I’m his king!  Er, I thought…I thought I was his king.”

“Are you not?”

“He doesn’t think so.”

“So you asked him how.  What did he tell you?”

“Nothing!  He kept dodging!  He, uh, he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Do you remember exactly what he said?”

Sinbad was silent, deep in drunken thought.  Then he finally, “Said it wouldn’t help me run my country.  Then he threatened me.”

Hinahoho chuckled.  “He wouldn’t kill you, huh.”

“Hinaho--”

“Yes, Your Majesty.  I understand.”

“Why won’t he talk to me?”

“I’d say to just leave him alone.”

Sinbad pulled his chin into his neck and grimaced.  “But I need to know!”

“Do you need to know, or want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Leave him alone, Your Majesty.  I’m sure there’s plenty about your life that you wouldn’t want him to know.  I can only imagine what he’s trying to protect you from.”

“Protect me—”

“You tend to take on the emotions and pain of those around you.  No doubt he’s already picked up on that.”

Oh, that made Sinbad mad.  Hinahoho could see it in the way his fingers curled into the wood on his desk and the way his eyebrows twitched.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right.”

And then Sin pushed up off the desk, and took a step back.  “Not as if I haven’t been forced to do so by those around me.”

“Your Majesty--”

“You’ve fuckin’…You’ve said enough, Hinahoho.”

He clenched his jaw tightly as Sin took another step back.

“Don’t fall, Your Majesty.”

“Fuck you, Hinahoho.”  He made a rude gesture and took another shaky step towards the door.  “I’m gonna find’im and make him tell me.”

“Don’t-”

“I’m the king!”

“Your Maje-”

And, he was gone.  Hinahoho was left with a pile of paperwork and a lingering sense of helplessness.  With a heavy breath and a shake of his head, she shuffled some papers and piled them into a drawer.

Time to go find someone to corral the king.

~

Sinbad stomped through the door mad.  Everyone in the office jumped except Ja’far, and that almost pissed him off even more.

“Ja’far!”

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

He snarled at the title.  “I thought I gave you the day off.”

“I decided not to take it.”

“Come here right now.”

“With all due respect--”

“Now.”

Ja’far stood slowly, clearly frustrated by the interruption.  “You’re drunk.”  And with that, the rest of the office fixed their eyes on their work and ignored the couple leaving the office.  So this must happen relatively frequently.  The wide eyes and shaking hands told him that there was something frightening about the king’s anger.  When Ja’far reached him, he turned and began stepping out of the office.

“Follow.  Don’t say a word.”

“I wasn’t going to, but now I must.” 

Sin whirled on him, drunk anger flashing in his eyes.

“I may not be your king, but I am still your superior, and you will treat me with respect.”

“You’re a drunk, and I will treat you as I wish.”

Sin grabbed him by his arm, or rather, he attempted to grab his arm, but Ja’far pulled away too quickly.  He turned around and shut the doors to the office with a loud thump.

“You may be my superior, but coming into an office of people who do not know you, roaring drunk and mad, is completely inappropriate and unseemly.  You are not respectable, so you are not my king.”

“Bar-barossa.”

“That’s it?  Barbarossa?  You storming into-”

“How did you kill him?”

“Slit his throat.”

“How did you get close enough to slit-”

“Sin.”

“Oh my god.”

Ja’far swallowed and schooled his expression.  “I didn’t sleep with him.”

“You slept with him.”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

“You did!  I knew he wasn’t interested in Serendine, but I never tho-”

“This conversation is over.”

“No.  Follow.  Now.”

“Her brother’s still alive.”

“What?”

“Serendine’s brother, Ceylan.  He’s still alive.”

“You’re changing the ju…the subject.”

“The subject is over.”

“You slept with Barbarossa.”  
“He’s alive, but being kept far away from the throne.  Similar to the situation of Sham Lash, actually.”

“I’m not Serendine, I’m no longer interested in the internal affairs of Partevia.”

Ja’far laughed coldly.  “Really?  That’s not at all what you said this morning, and you seem oh, so interested in _my_ internal affairs.”

“So you did have sex with him?”

“That’s not what I meant!  I swear, you can make anything sexual, can’t you?”

“You’re the one who said it!”

“Why can’t you just trust that when I say you don’t need to know, you don’t need to know?”

“I’m supposed to trust someone who lived twenty years as an assassin?”

The change in Ja’far’s facial expression was immediate.  His angry scowl dropped and he shook his head just a little.

“Ja’far, I-”

“No, you’re right.  My apologies, Your Royal Highness.”  He returned to his tight lipped anger quickly.  He was already trying to step around Sinbad and get away.  This time Sin actually managed to grab Ja’far by the wrist, only to have it yanked from his grip.  Ja’far scowled at him, almost in disgust, and Sin had never been more afraid of him.

“I didn’t mean that.  I’m, uh, I’m drunk.”

“We both know you’re not drunk enough for that, and even if you were, it’s still uncalled for.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Now if you’ll excuse-”

“Ja’far, wai-”

“You’re very fond of interrupting me aren’t you?”

“Let me…Let me apologize correctly.”  Ja’far crossed his arms.  “I have a, uh, tendency to try and protect people, even if they don’t need it?”  Ja’far raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, if you’re…hurting?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree, I think.”

“You have your own slew of problems.  I figured it wouldn’t do to make you take on mine as well.”

“You’re ri-” Sinbad blinked a few times.  “That’s a good word.  ‘Slew’, that’s a good word.”

“Thank you?”

“But I’m your king.  Part of my job is to listen to your problems and do my best to fix them.”

“You can’t be in charge of everyone’s problems.”

“That’s why I have the Eight Generals.”

“And you bear them no resentment?”

“Uh.”  He hesitated too long and Ja’far gave him a wry smile and a nod.

“I’m not particularly knowledgeable about this country’s history, and your memoirs conveniently leave out a two year gap right before this nation’s founding.  I’m assuming it has to do with whatever event is hanging over everyone in the palace?”

“You’re, like…you’re really smart, aren’t you?”  Ja’far rolled his eyes.  “Uh, yeah.  It probably sounds hypo…hippo…hypocritical-”

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t.  I don’t want you to think differently of me.”

“You have your secrets and I have mine.”

“I just thought you’d be able to trust me as your king…”

“I do trust you,” Ja’far muttered.  “Just…”

“Not as your king.”

“No.”

“Then how?  How do you trust me?  As a person?  A storyteller?  How can you…?”

Ja’far shuffled uncomfortably.  He wouldn’t meet Sinbad’s eye, which wasn’t too unusual, but the unnerved grimace was.

“It doesn’t matter.  I was obviously mistaken to think of myself so highly.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He said with a flap of his hand.

“Ja’far I’m used to getting what I want.  Tell me how you thought of me.”

Ja’far’s face was bright red and he stared at the floor like he could map out the whole world in the grout.  “I thought we were…maybe, we were friends.”  It was Sinbad’s turn to be flustered.  Ja’far hadn’t looked up, but he kept talking.  “I realized this morning that was foolish of me and that you should not trouble yourself with me.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty.”

“Ja’far!”  This time, Sinbad stepped directly in front of him.  “I prefer it when you call me Sin.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ja’far finally turned his head up.  “Sin.”

He nodded.  “And we are friends.  I’m sorry, it’s just…It’s been a while.”

“Since?

“Since what?”

“It’s been a while since what?”

“Oh, uh, since I, uh, had someone as a friend, that wasn’t for,” he waved his hand around nebulously, “political reasons.”

“Oh.  Well I’ve never.”

“Never what?”

“Had a friend.”

Sin laughed outright at that.  “What about Rurumu?  And Yamu?  Or Kikiriku?”

“Family.  I think.  That’s how they refer to me, but I’ve never really had that either, so it’s hard to tell.”

“That makes sense.  So, we’re friends?”

“I suppose so.”

“Despite how much we fight?”

“Isn’t that what friends do?”

“Have you been talking to Sharkkan?”

“Actually, yes.  On your orders no less.  Let me tell you I get no joy in destroying a young man’s confidence.”

“Don’t worry.  He bounces back fast.”

“If you say so.”

“I do want you to take the rest of the day off though.”

“Please, I was an assassin for twenty-odd years.  Going one night without sleep isn’t going to kill me.”

“Then go see Serendine.  She’ll want to know about her brother.”

Ja’far looked down again.  “I think I might be afraid of her.”  He glared wen Sin laughed again.

“What are you afraid for?  You’re most likely immune to any of the poisons she has ahold of.”

“I said some pretty nasty things to her.  Vittel too.”

“I almost certain they’ve already forgiven you.”

“Unlikely.”

“Just apologize, if you feel bad.”

“I don’t know how.  What if I say something nasty again?  What if I make it worse?  What if she _doesn’t_ forgive me?”

“She forgave me for kidnapping her, calling her names, and exposing her breasts to the whole empire, all while she was a princess, too.  I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”  Ja’far’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, and Sin grinned.

“You _what_?!”

“I was young,” he grinned.  “It’s all water under the bridge now.”

“You’re awful.”

“Yeah, I am.  That’s why I surround myself with people who are wonderful.”  Ja’far rolled his eyes, but Sin could have sworn he saw a little bit of a smile at the corners of his lips.

“Regardless, there’s a queasy feeling in my gut that I’d rather not agitate, and thinking about talking to her makes me want to vomit.”

“That’s called anxiety.”

“I’m not nervous,” he defended.

Sin shrugged.  “Just go talk to her, please?  If you open with information about her brother, she’ll probably be more receptive.  I’m pretty sure she thinks he’s dead.”

“…”

“As a request from a friend?”

“…Fine.  But if you try to pull that card on me too often, I’m revoking our friendship.”

“Fair enough.  Now go.”  He gestured towards the other end of the hall, in the direction of the Black Libra Tower.

Ja’far grimaced and glared at him, but slunk off in that direction


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official end of the first act of this fic!! I apologize for the shortness of it, since it falls just short of 2k, but hopefully the next act will keep y'all engaged! Also, I've joined the Magi Big Bang, so I'm not going to be updating this fic for a while while I work on that. I can't say too much about the fic I have planned, since artist's haven't chosen yet, but I'm really excited for it! If you're interested in the project, you can visit the official magi Big Bang tumblr [here](https://magibb.tumblr.com/)  
> I'm gonna estimate that the next chapter for this fic will be out April 22nd.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this super sort chapter

Ja’far only got lost twice on his way to Serendine’s office.  It was located on the third floor, around several corners, and practically hiding behind a decorative curtain.  He knocked on the door softly, hoping she wouldn’t answer.  Unfortunately, his prayers weren’t answered, and she called for him to come in.

“Oh.  Ja’far.  I wasn’t expecting you here.”

“I’m here on Sin’s orders,” he half-lied.

“How can I help you?” she had a skeptical expression, eyes scrunched up, and lips in a thin line.

“I, uh, want to apologize.  For when we first met, six months ago.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.  For saying the things I did.  I don’t really remember what I said, but it wasn’t anything nice, and I won’t do it again.”

“Well, it’s not really a big deal.  You weren’t really wrong when you called me a traitor.”

He winced.  “That still doesn’t make my tone any more acceptable.  I’m sorry.”

She waved her quill at him and looked back at her desk, which was much more organized than Sin’s or Yamuriaha’s.  “All’s forgiven.  You’re a new man.  I was very much like you when I first arrived here.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s actually kind of funny,” she grinned, “comparing a runaway princess to a captured assassin, but it’s still accurate.  I was very immature and selfish when Drakon and I first arrived at the Sindria Trading Company about eight or nine years ago.  I made a lot of mistakes and said some things that I still regret deeply.”  When Ja’far didn’t answer, she glanced up at him.  “I forgave you a while ago, Ja’far.  Is something wrong?”

“I…That was just…so much easier than I thought it was.  I thought you’d want payback or something.”

“For a few harsh words spoken by someone who didn’t know any better?  I’ve been more upset with my own patients.  Soldiers are always so headstrong and ready to fight anyone, especially if you have their best interest in mind.”

“I made it a point to avoid contact with them at all costs.”

“Good decision.”

“I um, I have some information that Sin thinks will interest you.”

“Yeah?  Did Sham Lash develop another new poison in the last ten years?”

“No, well yes, but that’s beside the point.  Your brother’s alive, and I know where they’re keeping him.”

Serendine dropped her pen, and stared at him.

“What? Where?  Where’s Ceylan?  Is he okay?  He’s alive?”

“He’s fine.  A few bumps and scrapes, but he should still be fine.  There wasn’t any reason to hurt him I don’t think.  They’re going to instate him as a puppet king in the next three years or so.”

“Where?”

“A little island off the coast of Reim.”

“Which one?”

“Vici. But you have to understand he’s had a Party education for the past ten years.  He might not be the brother you remember.”

“It doesn’t matter!” she practically shouted.  She was running her hand through her pink bangs, grinning and shaking her head.  “He’s alive!  Ja’far, he’s alive!  You have no idea…I’ve been so stressed out about him for a decade, Ja’far!”

“I’m sorry?” he hadn’t been expecting her to react like this.  Was she happy?  Sad?  Upset?

“Sorry?!  I could kiss you Ja’far!  You’ve given me the best news I could ever hope for!”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll ask His Majesty for leave immediately.”

“You’ll go get him yourself?”

“I would, if that’s what it took, but His Majesty will probably insist upon coming with me.  He’s never been good at sitting still.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Thank you, Ja’far.  I-I wish you’d said something earlier, but this is the best news…the best…You should go.  I’m going to start crying, and you can’t see that.”

Ja’far bowed and exited the room without another word and rushed back to his room in the White Capricorn Tower.  He flopped into his bed without much ceremony, and practically passed out.

A loud knock at his door woke him up.  He threw himself to standing, darts ready in his hands.  He remembered where he was and relaxed his stance.

“Sir Ja’far, His Majesty has called for you to attend this morning’s meeting,” the attendant stated when Ja’far opened the door a crack.

“For what?”

“He’d like you as soon as possible, so if you please.”

Ja’far glanced down at his ruffled and out of place clothing, then sighed heavily.  “I’ll come as I am.”  The attendant bowed and began to lead him towards the main conference room.

When they arrived, it was obvious they’d been waiting for him.

“Good morning, Ja’far!” bellowed Sin.  His grin was ridiculous, just like the rest of him.

“Is it morning already?”  Ja’far hadn’t realized how long he’d slept, but he supposed it didn’t matter too much.  Before Sin could answer, he asked, “Why have you called me, Sin?”

“The idiot king wants to take you with us to Partevia,” huffed Serendine.

“You what?”

“When we go to save Ceylan!” he beamed.

“For what purpose?”  He glanced around at the other generals seated around the long wooden table, and at Sharrkan and Masrur, who looked equally bored sitting in chairs lined up against the side wall.

“You were the last one in Partevia.  You know where they’re keeping Ceylan.  Of course I’d have you’d come with us!”

“Um, Sin, you seem to misunderstand,” he stuttered, “I haven’t actually been in Partevia for a few years.”

“What?”  Everyone at the table seemed taken aback.  “But Sham Lash-”

“Used to be based out of Partevia, yes, but after Shaka’s death, you can imagine that the Party felt a little wary of us.”

“Oh.”

“We were sent away to an island, and nowadays we do much more freelancing than government work.  Hell, the only reason I got sent here when I did was because there weren’t any jobs that were important enough for me.”

“Who’s Shaka?” Parsine asked.

“Leader of Sham Lash,” Seren answered.  “I had my suspicions about the last few months of Barbarossa’s reign.  I’m assuming Shaka was really the one in charge?”

“Yeah, uh, yes.”

“I hate politics,” she mumbled.

“Well, we won’t be spending much time in Partevia anyway.  We’re gonna need your help finding him.”  Sin glanced around the room.  “I’m also considering bringing you, Vittel.”

“I’d like to accompany you as well,” Drakon grumbled.  “I’m familiar with the armaments on Vici, and I want to see what Partevia has become in our absence.”

“I figured you would, but I’m going to say no.”  Sin scratched his head.  “You’re just too conspicuous.  It’s not like when we picked up Sharrkan anymore.  People know who you are and what you look like now.”

“But I know how to get into the facilities at Vici.”

“You probably don’t,” muttered Ja’far.  “They changed a lot of infrastructure and policies when they moved Ceylan there.”

“I’m sorry Drakon, I just don’t think it’s a good plan.  Serendine, Vittel, and Ja’far will blend in much easier.”

“You won’t though,” Ja’far said with rolled eyes.  Everyone in the room looked at him uncomfortably.  Sinbad just laughed.

“You’re right.  I’ll do my best to keep all this,” he gestured to himself, “under control while we’re there.”

“Unlikely,” breathed Serendine.  “When do we leave?”

“A month from now.”

“A month?!  We should be heading out tomorrow!”

“I have meetings and stuff,” shrugged Sin.  “Can’t exactly drop everything to go look for a brother we didn’t even know was alive until yesterday.”

“I guess I can’t expect you to understand,” she spat.  “Since you never had siblings.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he grinned back.  Ja’far noticed a small twitch at the edge of Sin’s smile.  “I have an audience to attend with the people in a week and a half, and two different delegates to negotiate with by the start of next month.  I’m sorry, Serendine.”

“You don’t have to come with us.  I’m sure Vittel, Ja’far, and I would be more than enough.  Parliament and The medical wing will be fine with us leaving on such short notice.”

“Actually!” Vittel piped up.  Serendine ignored him.

“Your Majesty, it might be detrimental for you to come.  The nation needs you here anyway.  And what are you going to do if they catch you? It would put both yourself and Sindria in a precarious position.  It would be considered an act of war.”

“Serendine,” Vittel said from across the table, “I can’t leave without-”

“And what will they do if they catch you three without the protection of the king?  It’ll still be an act of war, sending two generals and a traitorous assassin into their country, and you won’t even have my political weight to throw around.”

“If I could just say-”

“That’s certainly one way of describing my situation,” huffed Ja’far.

“Please!” Vittel almost shouted.  Everyone looked at him now, and he almost cowered at the attention.  He was so much different than Ja’far remembered.  “I can’t just leave Parliament.  I would really appreciate having the month to get some of the documents and such in order.  We’re still catching up from Maharagon six months ago.  If you really want me to go.”

“I want you to go,” Sin affirmed.  “And there you have it.  Both Vittel and I need some time to make sure we can attend our duties.  I’m sorry Serendine.”

“Fine.  Whatever.”  She was obviously pissed, but Ja’far agreed with Vittel and Sin.  If he was going to be visiting Vici, he was going to need time to gather information.  He was also going to need time to mentally prepare himself for being back in Partevia.  He had hoped he’d never have to see that country again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I'm so sorry!!! When I decided a month ago to update this story on this particular day, I had completely forgotten that it's also the day of my sister's wedding! So i've been really busy finishing up school and prepping for the ceremony. So it's a short, but it's an important one. Also, I'm going to slate the next update for two weeks from now on May 6th, since I'm out of school! I'm also part of the Magi Big Bang, so I'll be working on that story too! Busy Busy! Anyway, I hope this update is enjoyable

“Your Majesty!”  Rurumu caught him just as he was getting back to his office from lunch.  He paused at the door to give her his full attention.

“You look troubled.  What’s wrong?”

“Have you seem Ja’far?  He didn’t show up to work this morning, and I haven’t seen him all day.”

On instinct, Sinbad tensed.  Had Ja’far been manipulating them this whole time?  Had he finally fled the castle?  Sinbad forced himself to relax.  If Ja’far really _had_ been acting the whole time, intent on going back to Sham Lash, he wouldn’t have left without finishing his mission.  And since Sinbad was still alive…

“Have you checked his room?”

“Yes.  Gone.  We checked the library and kitchens too.  Sharkkan hasn’t seen him either.”

Sinbad ran his hand over his face.  “Is anyone else looking?”

“Kikiriku and Yamu.  He’s been acting strange since the meeting a few days ago.  He’s been quieter than usual. I’ve practically had to force him to eat too.”

“You don’t think he’d try anything stupid, do you?”

Rurumu shrugged.  “It’s hard to say with him.  I don’t think he’s as open with us as he’d lead us to believe.”

“Okay, well let’s get looking.  We won’t find him by standing around worrying.”

“You don’t need to help, Your Highness, I just wanted to alert you to his disappearance.  You must be busy getting ready for the address.”

“It’s fine.  It’ll bother me if I don’t help.”

Smiling slightly, Rurumu’s shoulders relaxed.  “Thank you Your Majesty.”

They both walked down the hall, discussing how they would split up the towers to search.  They finally reached the center of the White Capricorn Tower and went their separate ways.  Sinbad had taken the first and second floors, and had been through almost every room, save the personal rooms of his administration workers.  He’d even asked the maids who were out and about if they had seen Ja’far.  He had absolutely no luck.  He did the same on the second floor much to the same results.  Perhaps Ja’far had gone back to his room in the last hour?

He hadn’t.  Sinbad let out a lengthy groan, then went to the open window for some fresh air.  He rested his forearms on the sill and leaned out and—oh.

It probably shouldn’t have been surprising to him, finding Ja’far sitting on the roof, considering Masrur was prone to hiding on rooves as well, but it was still frustrating that he hadn’t thought of it earlier.  He called down to Ja’far.

“What’re you doin’ down there?”

Ja’far let out a heavy sigh.  If Sin could see his face, he’d bet Ja’far was rolling his eyes too.  “Well, I _was_ hiding.  But I guess you found me, so I’m just sulking now.”

“You mind if I come down?”

“Nothing I could say would stop you.”  Sin hopped over the railing and plopped down a few meters from Ja’far.  “You’re going to hurt your knees landing like that.”

“Then you’ll have to teach me how to land better.”

“Another time, maybe.”  Ja’far was sitting back against the outer wall, legs pulled up, and arms wrapped around his knees.  He looked even younger than usual, and Sin felt any annoyance at his disappearance lift.  He took a few steps, then turned and slid down the wall to sit next to Ja’far.

“You wanna tell me what you’re doing out here?”

“I told you.  I’m sulking.”

“Well, I got that.  But why?”

“Don’t know.”

“You might be a good liar, but I’m having trouble believing that.  Is this about going back to Partevia?”

“Hmm.  Maybe a little.  I don’t want to go back, but I know it’s necessary.”  He looked like he wanted to say something else, so Sinbad didn’t respond right away.  Finally Ja’far said, “I’m used to doing things I don’t like.  So no, I don’t think it’s that.”

“Well if it’s not that, then…” he didn’t bother finishing the question.

Ja’far didn’t answer for a moment, but finally whispered, “I think I’m lonely.”

That got Sinbad’s attention.  He stared at Ja’far’s face, looking for any evidence that he was joking, but found none.

“You’re lonely?”

“I think so.  I’m not entirely familiar with the sensation, but from what I’ve read-”

“How could you be lonely?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a little more heat.

“I didn’t mean to cut you off, sorry.  But you have so many people around you.”  Ja’far gave him a rather withering look.  “Rurumu, Hinahoho, Kikiriku and the twins, Serendine and Vittel.  Hell, Yamu and Sharrkan never stop talking about you.  But you still feel lonely?”

“I guess.  They don’t...They don’t really know me.  That sounds so self-centered.  I don’t know.”

“They don’t know you?”

He huffed, and let his head hit the wall with a thump.  “Most of the people you just named don’t really know what my life was like before coming here, nor do I wish to tell them.  Sharr and Kikiriku don’t need that.”

“I-I guess not.  I never really thought about it like that.”

“There are things I don’t think I could bring myself to tell Rurumu.”

“Seriously?  Your own mother?”

Laughing bitterly, he said, “I think there are things that would change her opinion of me drastically if I told her.  I want her to believe whatever lies she’s told herself about my upbringing.  She wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Sin knew exactly what he was getting at.  He’d found it so hard to open up to people after his stint as a slave.  The guilt had been overwhelming, and it seemed easier to let them believe whatever they wanted.  It was easier to stay quiet and feel accepted.  Months had passed before regained any kind of cheeriness, and he had felt so isolated and afraid of others.  There was no way the others would be able to understand what he’d been through, what he’d thought, how he justified things to himself.

“You’re right.”

“I expected you to protest.”

“You might not believe it, but I’ve seen my share of shit too.  I know what you’re saying.”

“I believe you.  It’d be nice if I knew what that shit entailed, but.”

“Ah, yeah.  Well, it’s probably nothing compared to twenty years of abuse at the hands of your government.”

“I’m not sure that matters.  Shit is shit.  Doesn’t matter how long it happened, or how recent.  It’s still shit.”

“Poetic as ever,” Sin laughed.

“What can I say?  I have a gift.”  Despite Sin’s smile, Ja’far did not seem happy.  He tilted his head and tapped one of his fingers on his forearm.  “So what happened?”

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s fair of me to tell you when you’re the one in need of comfort, do you?”

“You lost friends, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I figured.  You don’t seem the type to lose yourself to torture or manipulation.”

Sinbad laughed outright at that.  “That’s happened too.”

“Really?”  The word was almost challenging, but Sin kept his smile as he spoke.

“Yeah.  For about a year, I was a slave.  Got so bad I thought maybe it was better to be a slave than to be free.”

Ja’far nodded.

“You’re good at diverting things, aren’t you?  I told you we shouldn’t talk about me and here we are.”

That made Ja’far smile finally.  “I’m an assassin.  I need to be able to create situations that are favorable for me.”

“Not sure how listening to the king whine about his past is favorable.”

“Sometimes I still hear the grating of the whetstone at night.”  Sin gave him a pointed look.  “Younger assassins used to stay up all night sharpening blades for the older ones to use in the mornings.  Three guesses what those blades were used for.”

“Punishment?”

Ja’far nodded.  “No one ever knew if they were going to be punished.  If you even _thought_ you might be punished for something, you probably would be.  But you never knew.”  He curled in on himself further.  “The paranoia would keep the kids up all night.  They’d sharpen knives down to nothing out of fear.  And I can still hear it.”

“How often did you get punished?”

“Frequent enough to stop caring anymore.  Once that happens, they hand you the blades and teach you how to mete it out.”

“You…you punished others?”

“Of course.  Did you think I was innocent?”

“Well, no.  It’s just, it seems so out of character now.”

“I suppose.  But it’s not.  You should know how simple it is to be cruel, especially when it ensures your own safety.”

“Yeah.  All too well.”  Gritting his teeth, Sin pressed the edges of his fingernails into his palms.  “You can tell me these things.  When they bother you, I mean.  Obviously I won’t be able to understand all of it.  I’m sure you’ve seen things I can’t even imagine.  But you can at least tell me about it.”

“The same goes for you.  You always look so guilty when you make decisions.  And your resentment towards this country is only half hidden.”

“I don’t resent this country.”  Ja’far raised an eyebrow at him.  “It’s complicated.”

“It must be.  I can’t imagine what it’d be like having so many people relying on me.  Being king must be terribly lonely.”

“I-”  To be honest, he hadn’t thought of it that way.  At first he wanted to deny it, but it matched what he felt too well.  “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re right.  It’s funny.  I’m surrounded by people I’ve known almost my entire life, and yet I’m not sure they know me.”

“They do know you.  Just not everything about you.  I think there’s a difference.”

“It’s hard to feel close to people when they don’t know everything.”

“It’s impossible to know everything about a person.”

“It’s not like they’d understand anyway.”

“I will.  I just did, didn’t I?”

“I guess so.  And you wouldn’t judge me if I had done terrible things when I was a slave?  You’d listen even if I told you I’d killed people?”

“You think I’d assume you’d get to where you are without getting your hands dirty?  Do you think I’m naive?”

“Just making sure.”

“Only an idiot would think you could build what you have with no losses.  And even if your hands are dirty, they’re probably nothing compared to mine.”  He lifted a hand from around his knees, almost as if to inspect it.  Then he made direct eye contact with Sin and said, “I’ll listen.  I think that’s what friends are supposed to do, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.”  Sin was the one uncomfortable this time, with Ja’far’s eyes so intently focused on him.  It was easy to forget just how green they were when he always looked at the ground.  Sin pinched the bridge of his nose then rubbed his fingers over his closed eyelids.

“You know,” Ja’far said slowly, “I don’t feel so lonely now.”

“I’m glad.  I, uh, I don’t feel so lonely anymore either.”

Ja’far untangled himself and stood.  “Thank you, Sin.  You’ve given me more than I ever could have expected.”

“All in a day’s work for a king.”

“I mean it.”

“Oh, uh, well, you’re welcome.”  He made an effort not to look Ja’far in the eye, but it was hard to know if Ja’far was still staring at him.  His face was turning red, he just knew it.  It was just unusual for someone to be so direct and simple with their thankfulness.  It took a moment, but when Sin finally looked over, Ja’far was gone.

“Fucking assassins,” he sighed as he pulled his hand over his face.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is so late, I actually forgot I was supposed to post today, but here it is!!

“How would you feel about a more official position?”

Ja’far set down the papers in his hand and squinted at Sin.  Sin had gotten used to that look over the last week or so.  It usually meant Ja’far was assessing Sinbad’s sincerity or meaning.  Currently, they were going through last year’s tax files and reorganizing.  The room was small and cramped, but several candles and the open door made for enough light to read by.  Ja’far sat on the floor surrounded by stacks of scrolls, while Sin had a chair to sit in and a shelf to tuck his finished reading into.

“You want me to take on more responsibilities?  I thought being your friend would have more perks, not more work.”

“You’re clever,” Sin deadpanned back.  “No, I’m talking about giving you a title.”

“A _title_?  Ha!”

“I’m serious!  Ever since the meeting a week ago, you’ve pretty much been in charge of me.  You make sure I’m up on time, I’m in the right office, signing the relevant documents.  You’ve already taken on most of the responsibilities of a retainer.  Hell, you’ve dressed me twice this week!”

“That’s because your servants are lazy.”

“No, they just listen to me when I tell them to give me five more minutes.”

Ja’far raised an eyebrow.  “You’re saying that because I don’t listen, you want me as a retainer?”

“Yes.”

“And my work in finances?”

“You can get to it whenever you’re not busy with me.”

“So I won’t work in finances anymore.”

“Are you implying that you’ll always be busy with me?  That I’m an ineffective king without you?”

“I was, but if you’d like me to say it outright, I can.”  He picked up a scroll and narrowed his eyes to read its contents.

“I’ll have you know I ruled this kingdom for five years without you, just fine,” Sin joked.

“Yes, and you hated every minute of it.”  Ja’far didn’t even look up, and Sinbad felt several different emotions cross his face.  He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the word.  Having Ja’far around was wonderful for the most part.  He was an impressive conversationalist, and Sinbad hadn’t had discussions with someone so different since his days traveling.  Ja’far wasn’t afraid of him either.  It was hard to be afraid of someone you could easily end, even if he was a king.  But that meant comments like the one Ja’far had just made could come at any time.  Sinbad sighed.

“You’re not…I didn’t hate it.”

“Resented it then.  You couldn’t trust your subjects to handle certain things.”

“Like?”

“You had me “take care of” a rapist the other day.  I’m assuming you used to handle things like that before I got here.”

“You’re too insightful for your own good, you know that?  And my version of 'taking care of' doesn't involve a severed head on the ground, though I can't say i'm upset about it.”

“I find it's more efficient than jail time.  And it not like I left a mess for anyone to see.”  He tossed his scroll into a pile and picked up another.  “I’m also assuming that the generals have been too busy themselves to actually see the amount of work you do.”

“I thought about making nine generals, but that just seemed excessive.”

“Well, I’m not a general, but I’m here to help.”

“I could make you a general.”

Ja’far scoffed again.  “I can’t be a general.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t suit me.  Besides, I can’t be a general if I’m a retainer.”

“So you’ll accept the title?”

“Depends.  What other duties does the title come with?  I’m not bathing you, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

Sinbad laughed again.  “Not much else than what you’ve already been up to.  You’ll get an office closer to mine, and anything that I need help with falls to you.  I’d ask that you make some public appearances with me as well.”

“As a sort of guard?”

“What?”

“I’d make public appearances with you to keep you safe, correct?  Incapacitate any dissidents?”

“I-I hadn’t thought of that, actually, but I suppose that would be a benefit.  That was quite the phrase, where did you learn it?”

“Volume four.”

“Of what?”

“Your books.”

“Oh, gods above,” Sinbad cursed.  “Why are you reading those again?”

“They’re entertaining.  And they give me an opportunity to tease you.”

“You do realize I wrote those when I was a child, right?”

“Yes, if your constant reminder within the text wasn’t enough, the overpowering use of the word “indescribable” was.”

“You wound me.”

“You could stand to be wounded more often.”

“You’re supposed to protect me!”

“You’re more than capable of protecting yourself.  But I suppose if you were caught off guard or overpowered, I could lend a hand.”

“Confidence inspiring,” Sin breathed out.  He re-rolled his scroll and slid it into the pleasure district shelf.  “Inspiration aside, I’ll fill out the paperwork to make you a retainer tonight.”  Ja’far hummed, but made no further comment.  “And speaking of paperwork.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”  There wasn’t any heat behind Ja’far’s words, in fact he was smiling just slightly.

“Can I help it if you’re such a good listener?  I need to edit my speech for tomorrow.  Would you be willing to help?”

“You’re asking someone who learned how to read six months ago to look over a royal address?”

“Yes?”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“I trust your judgment.”

Ja’far stopped moving for a tense moment.  He gave Sin a much more serious version of his look, as if he really could not trust Sin’s words at face value and was looking for Sin’s angle.

“If that’s what you’d like, so be it.  I can’t promise any miracles.  I only hope your writing has improved in the last eight years or so.”

“My most scathing critic yet.  Exactly who I need looking over my documents.”

“You’re a very foolish man, Sin.  But I have to admit, that foolishness is endearing at times.”

“Did you just compliment me?”

“I didn’t say a word.”  Sin laughed, but made no further comments.  They worked in silence until the natural light creeping through the open door grew too dim to read by.

~

Sin’s speech had been very ostentatious and presumptuous, much like the man himself, Ja’far had found.  It detailed a new sewage plan Yamu wanted to try, so the residents of the testing areas would be aware of the soldiers soon to be occupying their streets.  It also notified every one of the opening of papagoras hunting season.  Supposedly they were a delicacy, and had very specific rules regarding their hunting.  Ja’far couldn’t have cared less, but these were important matters for the citizens, apparently.

But he wasn’t concerned about that anymore.

“Sin something’s not right,” Ja’far whispered.  He was standing just behind Sinbad, so speaking directly into is ear wasn’t hard.  Getting up on his tiptoes and maintaining the stance on the other hand, was annoyingly difficult.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s something off.  I think someone might try something.”

“Such as?”

“Killing you,” he grumbled, “what else?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps they’d just want to have a nice chat?”

“Will you take this seriously?”

“Wave to the people, Ja’far.  You’re a retainer now, aren’t you?  That means you’re a public figure.”  They were on the balcony where Sin had given the Five Year Anniversary speech half a year ago.  Ja’far glanced at the curtains where he’d hidden himself a lifetime ago and grimaced.  If he looked out towards the sky and didn’t lower his gaze, he could see the last  few rows of Sindrian citizens gathered in the plaza.

“Sin!” he hissed.  “This isn’t funny!”

“I’ll keep the address short then.”  He took a step forward and raised his arms.  “My people!  It pleases me to announce-”

The push and subsequent action happened too quickly for Sin to process at the time, but for Ja’far, it was an eternity of uncertainty.  He counted three different attackers, each equipped with bows and arrows.  Unusual choice of weapon for Sham Lash, he noted. But all the same, he knew it was them.  No one else would be stupid enough to target Sin.  He pushed Sinbad behind him, and before his ass even hit the ground, Ja’far had taken out two of the assassins by throwing his darts, letting the wires wrap around their necks, and pulling.  The maidservants who had accompanied them out to the balcony were in a tizzy trying to get back into the palace; the people in the plaza began screaming and panicking, and a yell rom Sin distracted him a second too long.

“Ja’far!”  His eyes were wide, staring at the arrow that had lodged itself in Ja’far’s left shoulder.  A second arrow was sticking out of his right thigh, and as he turned to dispatch the third assassin, he felt another hit him in the chest, too far right to hit his heart fortunately.  He felt it pass through him completely and heard it hitting the marble wall behind him.  In one swift motion, he yanked the arrow Sin was still staring at out of his shoulder, then snapped the shaft of the one in his leg with his other hand.

If the two assassins he’d already dealt hadn’t died when he’d snapped their necks, they were most likely dead now that their bodies had been trampled over by the screaming populace, so Ja’far pulled his darts back.  He heard another arrow hiss by him.

“Stay down, Sin,” he wheezed.  The assassin had a wide empty space around him as the plaza got emptier.

“But-”

“Stay.  Down.”

“Ja’far, you’re not gonna-”

Ja’far jumped up onto the railing, then leapt from the balcony to meet the assassin on the ground.  His landing favored his left leg, but the twinge in his muscle still forced him to roll out of the landing.  When he finally stood, the assassin had already moved away from him by a ways.  He was setting up for another attack at the balcony.  Ja’far once again threw his darts, if only to distract his opponent.  The assassin unstrung his bow and continued running from Ja’far.  His darts hit the ground, so he reeled them back in.

He repeated his actions, trying to creep up on the assassin and hit him, but Ja’far’s darts were not suited to combat in such an open environment.  There was nothing to sink his darts into other than his opponent, and he was too quick to hit.  Add that to Ja’far’s difficulty walking, along with the lightheadedness from lack of air, and this was not looking good, in modest terms.  He couldn’t even yell in frustration, with the wound in his chest.  So far, the assassin had loosed three more arrows at the balcony where Sin was hiding, and _where were the generals?_  

Anxiety bubbled up in him.  It was still possible for this assassin to kill Sin in current standing.  He just had to get the right arch-shaped trajectory, and even if archery wasn’t Sham Lash’s specialty, Ja’far refused to doubt the talents of this assassin.  He didn’t know who it was, couldn’t tell from all the shawls covering him from head to toe, but based on his movements, Ja’far would guess he was on the council.  If he was on the council, Ja’far gave this altercation approximately two and a half more minutes until one of them died, and both he and Sin were looking like the best candidates.  If he could just throw a little farther…

He lobbed his darts again, and missed pathetically.  He wanted to scream, but he clenched his teeth and ran after the assassin again.  He could definitely feel the arrowhead shifting around in his thigh now, and the pain was making it difficult to run.  He didn’t dare look down to see how much blood he’d lost.  His arm, too, was beginning to fail him.  Most likely it was from the adrenaline fading.  He was definitely getting desperate.

He had maybe one more good throw in him, and after that, he’d probably pass out, either from inadequate oxygen intake or blood loss.  He brought his blades back to his hands with a twist, and he cringed as he felt the wound in his shoulder protest.  One more strike.  He had one more.  He took as deep a breath as his perforated lung would let him, then let his darts loose.

_And the servant will know his use to his master_

There was not much time to pay attention to the deep voice rumbling in his head.  There was much more force behind his throw than he had put into it, actually, more than he was capable of putting into it even if he were uninjured.  And then there was an explosion of electricity, a scream, and then silence.  Ja’far fell, but managed to catch himself on his good knee, before splaying himself on his side, then rolling onto his back.

“Holy Shit, Ja’far!”  Sin was much too close.  Ja’far wanted to ask how he’d gotten so close so quickly, but knew he had to save his breath for more important things.  “Was that…Did you activate a household vessel?!”  He sounded elated, and when Ja’far opened his eyes, he looked just as happy.  He was also covered in blue scales.  Djinn equip then, Ja’far thought.  That was how he’d gotten there so fast.

“I’m going to go into shock,” he rasped out, “in less than a minute.  Can you get someone who can treat that here before it happens?”  His voice faded out at the end when he ran out of breath.

“Shit, shit, uh, I’ll grab Yamu and Seren!”  He reached down to pick Ja’far up.

“Don’t!”  Sin looked so much more unsteady now that Ja’far’s wounds were making themselves more obvious and he’d gotten over the initial surprise of Ja’far’s household vessel activating.  In fact, he just stood there, hands held over Ja’far, breathing out of his mouth.

“Sin!  _Go!_ ”

“Right!”  Ja’far let his head drop back into the dirt and coughed painfully.  He twisted his neck to try and see the body of the dead assassin, but he couldn’t quite find him, and the movement almost made him scream, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs.

By the time Sin came back, carrying Seren, and accompanied by Yamu floating on her staff, Ja’far’s vision was beginning to fade around the edges, and he almost felt giddy.

“Gods, his skin is like ice!” he heard Yamu say.

“He’s in shock.  Your Highness, is his lung perforated?” asked Serendine, in disbelief.

“An arrow went through his chest, so it’s likely.”

“It’s perf-” he coughed out.

“He’s still awake!”  Yamu put a hand over his nose and mouth to see how much air he was expelling.  “Barely breathing.”  His eyelids were heavy, so he didn’t see what she did next, but he assumed it was some kind of magic, since he could suddenly take a real breath.

“We need to transport him to the medical wing,” Serendine said to Yamu.

“He told me not to move him,” protested Sin.

“Smart on his part, you’d probably make it worse.”  Ja’far wanted to laugh at that, but Yamu had him flailing about when she levitated him.  “Stay still Ja’far.  You can pass out if you need to.”

“No you can’t!” Serendine corrected.  “Stay awake!  If you pass out now, your heart rate-”

“Save it for the bay,” interrupted Sin.

“Alright.  We can go.  I’m circulating oxygen into his other lung, so he should be fine for a while, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Wish he hadn’t snapped that arrow.  Did he pull one out-”

“Of his shoulder, yeah.”

“Ugh, that makes things so much more difficult.”

“We don’t have time for this, come on.”

“Hey!” Seren shrieked.  Ja’far opened his eyes just in time to see Sin pick Serendine up and throw her over his shoulder.

“Okay, you’re still awake, that’s good.  We’re gonna get you to the medical bay.  Keep your eyes open until then okay?”

Ja’far nodded.  He could feel his heart beat slowing considerably, thumping with great effort, even though his breath came easier.

When they arrived at the medical wing, Sin dropped out of his djinn equip and set Seren down.  He immediately began walking towards the intensive operation sector.  He grabbed a lower nurse on the way and told him to send word to Vittel and the other generals that there were three dead assassins in the castle plaza that needed to be addressed immediately, and to send out a kingdom wide alert.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait!!! Further apologies and notes in the end note!  
> Warnings for a mild PTSD-related panic attack :(

Ja’far awoke to a pounding headache that only intensified when he opened his eyes to the bright light shining through the window.  He screwed his eyes shut with a silent grimace.  Trying to keep from groaning, he took stock of the aches and pains scattered down his torso and along each limb.  Each breath came with a kind of strange pull deep within his chest.  Disconcerting, but not a problem.  He flexed his fingers.  There were two other people in the room, or not-room, as it was.  It was more of a cell cordoned off with thin white curtains.  All the linen might have been pretty as it waved in the airy sunlight, but Ja’far recognized the sterile smell of a medical bay immediately.

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he shut his eyes and waited for the memories to return.  This was how it always went for him.  He’d been knocked on the head a few too many times in his career for his head to remain unrattled, so it took some minutes to rearrange and set his memories right.  That’s right, he thought.  The pull in his chest must have been because of the arrows.  Sin was there.  Sin was a fucking idiot, as usual, he thought humorlessly.  Sham Lash was after them again.  Shit.  The events of the public address began setting themselves into place and he groaned.  Stupid!  He’d been so stupid!  Out of all his training, he’d gone against the single most important lesson.  The objective should be personal.  It does not involve others and one should be ready to die for that objective.  And Ja’far had been ready to die for Sin.  Not the objective.  Fuck.

“Oh he’s awake!”  It was Yamu’s voice.

“Debatable,” Ja’far grit out.  He rubbed a hand over his eyes, pretending not to feel the soreness in his shoulder.

“You took the healing rather well!” she said.  He turned his head to level her an unimpressed look.

“I’m used to magic running through my body.”

She faltered, “Oh, uh, right.  Well, even now!  Usually people are sore and cranky when they wake up!”

He gave her a cocked eyebrow in response.

“Crankier than usual.  You’re the normal level of crankiness for you!”

“Crankiness isn’t even a word,” the other person, Sharkkan, responded.

“Yes it is!”

“Ja’far, is crankiness a word?”

“You wasn’t the expertise of someone who was illiterate seven months ago?”

“You’re smarter than Little Miss Conch Shell.”  He punctuated the statement with a raspberry.

“Excuse you!”

“It’s a word.”

“Thank you!”

“You ought to be nicer to her if you want help with your problem, Shar.  She might be the only one who can help you.”

Shar paled and his face twisted into an indignant frown, but he said nothing.  Yamu looked between the man and boy, but seemed to sense the secret was as delicate as Sharkkan’s blustering façade, so thankfully, she said nothing.

“How are you feeling?” she asked instead.

“Like shit, but I can’t complain.  You and Seren are better at this than the mages back at Sham Lash.  Bed side manner’s better too.”  He gave a soft smile and rolled his shoulders.

“I’ll go let Sin know you’re awake,” Shar muttered.  Once he was gone, Yamu began interviewing him.

“How much do you remember?”

“Most, if not all of it.”

“You remember walking to the balcony?  What did you say to Sin?”

“I told him something was wrong.  Someone was going to try something.”

“How many assassins were there?”

Ja’far laughed.  “Three, four if you count me.”

Yamu’s jaw tensed, but she continued.  “What were your injuries?”

“Arrows to the shoulder, thigh, and chest.”

“Which shoulder?”

“This one,” he jiggled his left shoulder.  “This thigh, and around here for the chest.”  He motioned to the healed areas.

“How did you defeat the three assassins?”

“Easily,” he joked.

“Ja’far.”

“I snapped the first one’s neck.  Must have been the same with the other one.”

“What about the third one.”

Ja’far opened his mouth to respond, but found himself lacking words.  “I guess I don’t remember everything.”

“Okay.  Alright.” Yamu stood, staff clenched tightly in her hands.  “I think I’ll let His Majesty explain the rest.”

“Before you go, I’ll be well enough to go back to Partevia, won’t I?”

“I…I would say yes, but I’m not sure what Seren and Sin will have to say about it.  They’re the ones in charge here.”  She bowed and ducked out of the curtained space. 

Ja’far fell back asleep minutes after her departure.  He wasn’t out long enough to have any real dreams, but that didn’t stop an overwhelming sense of dread from wrapping around him like a constrictor.  He could feel the arrow going through his chest, right between his ribs, over and over again.  He felt the knives and darts and scalpels that had dug into him over the years.  He groaned and forced his eyes open.  There was a small group of people heading towards him.  Probably three or four if his ears were working right.  A few moments later, Sin pulled the curtain to Ja’far’s medical cell to the side dramatically.

“I came as quickly as I could.  How are you?”

“Didn’t Yamu tell you?  I’m dying slowly, just like the rest of us.” he inclined his head towards Yamu.

“Well, if you’re still snarking, I guess you’re fine, huh?”

Ja’far wanted to roll his eyes, but restrained himself.

“So you don’t remember how you took out the last assassin?”

“No.  Ask me agai—”

“And you haven’t had your darts returned to you?”

“No, I—”

Sin sat in one of the chairs to the side of Ja’far’s bed and scooted in close to the edge.  “Ja’far, you activated a household vessel!”

The grin on Sin’s face told him he wasn’t going to be punished for whatever he’d done, but he still gave Sin a mistrustful glare.

“I’m assuming that’s a good thing?”

“Wha—” Sharrkan spluttered

“It’s wonderful, Ja’far!  It means you are truly loyal to Sindria!”

“I’m not…”  Ja’far was going to say he wasn’t loyal to Sindria, but both the eager grin on Sin’s face, and the implications of _what_ or _who_ he was loyal to were too much.  “I’m not sure what that means.  The household vessel thing.”

“It means that I am your king,” Sin said proudly, “and my djinn have recognized you as my subject!  And you were quite intimidating!  You and Baal must have gotten along well when we pulled that metal vessel out of you!”

“I’m sorry, what does Baal have to do with any of this?”

“He was the one who recognized you!”  Sin leaned forward, gripping the white sheets of Ja’far’s bedding in his hands.  Ja’far was still having trouble processing the “loyalty” part of the discussion, so he just stared at Sin.  “This is wonderful, amazing news, Ja’far!  You are now an official member of my household!”

“L-Like a wife?” Ja’far finally managed.

Sharkkan, Yamu, and Serendine all snorted, then respectfully tried to cover their laughter, but Sinbad turned bright red.

“W-well a bride does become a part of her husband’s household,” Sin stuttered, “but it’s being used in a different context here!”

“Oh.”

“The only other household members are to the Seven Generals.  I could…I could make you a general!”

“No!” Ja’far practically shouted.  Then softer, he repeated himself.  “No.  I don’t want to be a general.”

Everyone was looking at him strangely now.  Their gazes felt like insects crawling all over him.  “It would look strange if someone as new to bureaucracy as me suddenly became a general.  And promoting me will only draw more attacks like this in the future.  Sham Lash probably thinks me dead.  Let’s keep it that way.”

“Oh, of course,” Sin said.  He had a strange look pinching his eyebrows together.

“More importantly, Yamu says she believes me fit enough to go to Partevia at the end of the week as planned.  Can I trust that her judgement is correct?”

“No,” Serendine spoke up.  “You need a week of bedrest after magical healing, just like everybody else.”

Ja’far looked to Sinbad again.  “I’m used to being on new mission within a day.  I’m leaving the decision up to you.”

“A day!” Serendine yelled.  “No doctor in their right mind would let someone fight within a day of something like this!’

Ja’far sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Honestly, what kind of operation did these people think Sham Lash ran?  Something _safe_?  _Clean_?  He might have laughed under different circumstances.  He glanced under his palm to gauge Sin’s reaction, but his face was still in a strange war with itself.

“I want you to be safe, but we’ll have a hard time on this mission without you.”

“A hard time,” Ja’far scoffed.  “You won’t have any sort of time without me because you won’t know where to go.  You won’t know who to talk to.  You may as well postpone the mission.”

Serendine clenched her fists and scowled.  “You enjoy making things difficult for me don’t you?”

“Actually, no.  I’m just being realistic.”

Seren turned to Sin.  “Do what you like then.”  And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the partitioned cell.

“What crawled up her skirt and died?” Sharkkan huffed.

“Shh,” said Yamu.  Ja’far pressed his head back into his pillow, hoping that maybe it would swallow him up.

“We aren’t leaving for another three days,” Sin said.  “Do you think you’ll be in good enough condition to come with us?”

“Probably won’t be in perfect condition, but I’ll survive.”

“Alright.  Then it’s settled.”

“Where are my darts?” Ja’far finally asked.  He twirled a forelock of hair around his index finger, itching for his.  Sinbad gave him another strange look, or rather his hand a strange look.

“You haven’t done that in a while.  What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”  He yanked harder on his hair, willing everyone to leave.  That awful lancing sense of dread he had fought down earlier welled back up in his stomach when he realized just how vulnerable he was without his darts.

“Sharkkan, Yamu.  Leave us.”

Exchanging glances, the two bowed then pushed through the curtains without a word.

“What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Something is wrong because you keep doing that thing with your hands and your hair.  Will you quit?  It’s very distracting.”  Sin reached out to take Ja’far’s hand out of his hair, but Ja’far flinched violently.  A hurt frown passed over Sin’s face.

“Sorry,” Ja’far muttered.  “I need my darts.”

“You don’t need to be afraid, Ja’far.  No one is going to—”

“Obviously I do need to be afraid,” Ja’far snapped, “or have you forgotten why I’m here?”

Sin stuttered. “Y-You’re right, I’m sorry.  I should have listened to you.  Earlier, I mean.”

“Yes, you should have.  You were overconfident and cocky.”

“Long-standing vices of mine, I assure you.”  He sighed.  “I just, I’m not the best at dealing with emotions.”

“I’m aware,” Ja’far said taking in a shaky breath.

Sin tried again. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m always afraid, but it’s worst after…after missions.”  In addition to his fear, Ja’far felt an indescribable wave of embarrassment threatening to make him cry.

“Why?”  
“I don’t know, it just happens,” Ja’far said, just under a shout’s volume.  “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”  He distracted himself by yanking harder on his hair.

“Ja’far, stop!”  This time, Sin was too quick for Ja’far to evade.  Ja’far winced as Sin pulled Ja’far’s hand out of his tangled hair.  “You need to stop doing that or you’ll go bald before I do,” Sin whispered.  They sat in silence for a few seconds.  “Yamu used to have episodes like this.  Sometimes.  She watched her parents die.  Fire used to make her freeze up and cry.  Even candles petrified her.”

“I can move just fine.”

“But you’re just as afraid as she was.  Why?  Why are you afraid?  The danger is over.  It’s gone, and I can’t imagine you’re afraid for Partevia.”

“I don’t know!  I don’t!”  He dug his nails into Sinbad’s skin where they were still connected.

A cough sounded.  Sin looked up to see a shadow behind one of the curtains.  “I brought Ja’far’s darts,” came Sharkkan’s voice. “I thought he’d like them back.”

Sinbad gave Ja’far a look that said the conversation wasn’t over, and Ja’far gave him one back that said it most definitely was.

~

Ja’far was out of bed by dinner time that night, against Yamu’s forceful suggestions.  All the generals had heard about his household vessel activating, and many congratulated him.  Rurumu on the other hand, was more overbearing than usual.  They were all sitting in the main hall picking at their plates, and Rurumu kept asking Ja’far if he needed help.

“Do you need me to soak your pita in milk?  Would rati be better?  Do we need to get a straw for your drink?  Are you sore anywhere?”

Ja’far had half a mind to get up and leave, but he endured, if only for the sake of the coffee that came after dessert.  Serendine had apparently heard Sin’s decision and had forgiven Ja’far for almost dying because she engaged him almost as often as Rurumu, but to ask questions about Partevia like where did the keep prisoners now, and who was really in control of the military.

Ja’far couldn’t tell her much, only that Sham Lash got called in from their far-off island infrequently to take a particularly tricky or sensitive mission from whatever leader was in charge that month.  She was not impressed. Vittel offered reprieve, somewhat.  He was still wary of Ja’far, which was understandable, but he made polite conversation from across the table.

After the initial tizzy that had followed the assassination attempt, things around the palace calmed down for approximately four minutes.  Sinbad was so excited about Ja’far’s newly activated household vessel that he continued boasting about it shamelessly for a short time before demanding that everyone keep the knowledge a secret, as if the whole kingdom wasn’t already aware.  The secrecy was really more at Ja’far’s insistence than Sinbad’s knack for strategy, but Ja’far figured he’d have to learn to make do with Sin’s extravagant nature sometime.  Sin and his traveling party finished up their last-minute preparations calmly while the rest of the palace began fussing over the impending absence of its king again, like the assassination attempt had never even happened.

Three days later, just as planned, Ja’far, Vittel, Serendine, and Sinbad boarded a ship heading to Partevia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know i completely missed the last update!! I went to Anime Expo this year, so I was very busy during June trying to get costumes done, and then in July I studied abroad in France and England, so I was very, very busy. In a similar vein, I can't guarantee scheduled updates any more because I am officially in my last semester of undergrad and taking 3 upper level english courses. I WILL continue updating, I just don't know when I'll have time, and I have approximately seventeen other WIPs (posted and unposted) that have my focus right now as well.  
> I am so grateful for all of your comments and kudos and love! THAT BEING SAID, I am a real person with a lot of things on my plate at the moment, so I ask that you try and be patient with me. Receiving comments with depreciating tones towards me or this story, or comments that do not take into account my time or personhood do not make me want to write any faster. So please and thank you for being patient in the future!
> 
> Because I cannot know when the next update will be, I started a writing twitter! I am @bastetwrites ! You can follow me for progress updates, new project announcements, and more!! Once again, thank you all so much for your patience!


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